


Something in Return

by reaching_my_summit



Series: Sunflowers [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew is a bitch, Banter, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Smut, Some people say this fic is hilarious so let’s maybe go with that as a tag?, and Neil has dumb bitch disease, because they are healing TOGETHER, lots of fluff, there is so much stupid flirting, they are so stupid and in love, they play exy, this is highkey so soft but they are definitely still in character, yeah they go to disney world and harry potter world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-08-04 18:49:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16352198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reaching_my_summit/pseuds/reaching_my_summit
Summary: “Andrew Minyard, how will you celebrate winning your final college Exy championship?”“I’m going to Disney World,” Andrew deadpans.- - -Andrew’s final year at Palmetto State comes to a close. His future is upon him and there are plans to be made. Years ago, Neil asked Andrew to stop smoking in exchange for something. Andrew finally knows what he wants in return.





	1. moving in

Andrew opens his laptop and sees an email notification from his school account. He clicks on the corresponding tab in his browser and raises an eyebrow when he focuses on the subject line.

 

**_Starting Goalie_ **

_Andrew,_

_Welcome to the team. Practices begin June 20th. Play your cards right and you’ll be starting. Your physical copy of the contract should be in the mail this week. We’ll be by after your game on Friday to hold an official signing and discuss the terms of your contract if you have any concerns. I’ll be forwarding this email to Wymack. See you then._

_C. Thomas, Nashville Sabres Head Coach_

 

Well. Andrew didn’t doubt that he’d be signed, not after winning the college Exy national championships for two out of his four previous years at Palmetto State. They were in semi-finals for his second senior year and had a good chance of beating out Breckenridge at the end of the week, which put him that much closer to a third championship in his college career. People had been predicting that he would become the best goalkeeper Exy had ever seen, and Kevin was convinced that Andrew would make Court _if he tried_. Nike was already sponsoring him. They were trying to push a line on shorter, sturdier builds. He guessed he should be something akin to thankful. _Maybe un-inconvenienced._  For once, sleeves would properly fit around his biceps without the rest of the shirt swallowing him whole (Neil still ogled him in the gym, either way).  _Money was money, even if it came from something as vain and useless and modeling._ Without looking up from his laptop, Andrew speaks.

 

“I’m signing with the Sabres on Friday.”

 

Neil looks up at Andrew. He wasn’t even sure that Andrew would decide to go professional, but something inside him settles in relief. “Well, that’s closer than New York."

 

Andrew pushes his chair away from his desk and turns it toward Neil. He gives Neil a pointed look, and Neil obediently walks over to sit on the edge of Andrew’s desk. “I’m cashing in on my no-smoking promise. I want your name on the lease to an apartment.”

 

Neil wonders if it's an income thing, first. He knows that you have to have personal or joint income of a certain amount before a complex would allow you to move-in. Andrew should have more than enough money from his contract. “Why?” He asks. _Ever the dumbass._

 

“Oh, Neil,” Andrew sighs. “What’s it like to be a certified fucking idiot?”

 

“I don’t know. What’s it like to be fucking an idiot?” Neil smirks.

 

Andrew rolls his eyes and pulls Neil down into his lap. “I know your little Exy-monkey-brain can’t comprehend anything beyond scoring, so let me spell it out for you. I want you to move in with me before my practices start.”

 

“Oh,” Neil blinks.

 

“Yeah,” Andrew widens his eyes and nods slowly as though he is talking to a child. “ _Oh._ ” His expression goes a little softer before he asks _their_ question. “Yes or no, Neil?”

 

Neil flicks Andrew’s bicep and makes a face. He wants to make a life with Andrew more than anything, but Andrew will be gone in a few months and Neil will spend his last year at Palmetto State alone. He didn’t know if he was ready for that, or if he ever could be, but the first step towards his future had to be taken eventually. “What do you think the answer is, Asshole? _Yes.”_  Neil places his hands on Andrew’s shoulders. “But if you’re going to make a housewife out of me, you _might_ want to rethink calling me a dumbass every day. I’ll leave all my clothes on the floor and never wash my dishes in retaliation.”

 

“I take it back. Lease-signing offer has been revoked.” Andrew quips. He wraps his arms around Neil’s waist, anyway. Three years had made them both more comfortable with these casual touches.

 

“Whatever,” Neil scoffs. “You _wish_ you could get rid of me. Already looking at places?”

 

Andrew nods. “I really do. And yes, I have. There’s a gated community that most of the Sabres live in. It’s a ten-minute drive to the stadium. There’s a community Exy court--”

 

“I’m sold."

 

Andrew narrows his eyes. “Fucking Junkie.”

 

“Maybe." Neil leans in to steal a kiss.

 

Andrew hates Neil and his stupid fucking adorable bullshit. It makes him so angry. Irrationally so. He is so angry that he has to keep kissing Neil just to make him shut the fuck up.

 

“You asked me to move in with you,” Neil says against Andrew’s lips. He thinks of the shape of the key to the house in Columbia and traces it onto the back of Andrew’s neck. Another home. Another place to stay. Another place Andrew _asked_ him to stay.

 

“Observant, aren’t you?” Andrew mewls. Neil opens his mouth to defend himself and Andrew shuts him up again.

 

\---

 

Andrew twists the key in the door to apartment number 310. Third floor, end of the hallway. So far, Neil has found several security cameras and a few ambient microphones shoved into corners and under lamps lining the walls. He doesn't trust most surveillance systems, but they would probably be beneficial if a Moriyama lackey or a straggler from his father’s circle came knocking. Andrew looks over his shoulder at Neil, who is running his fingers under the lip of the light outside their door to check for a microphone. “Paranoid?”

 

Neil opts for turning the doorknob in lieu of an answer. Massive windows fill an entire wall of the studio apartment's main space, showcasing the Nashville skyline. A bar separates the living room from the kitchen, which is fitted with ample cabinet space, marble countertops, and stainless steel appliances. Neil wonders why all of this is necessary, but he is impressed.

 

Andrew had recently taken up cooking as a hobby (upon Bee’s insistence that he needed something to do besides kiss Neil, play Exy, and drive), so he explores the kitchen further to examine the appliances more closely. Neil wanders about until he finds the bedroom. Another large window, recessed lighting, and plush carpet further add to the urban feel of the place. The bass of the music floating up from  _The Gulch_ below is barely audible, but it makes Neil think.  _This could be considered normalcy._

 

Attached to the bedroom is a master bath with a _waterfall shower_. Neil would sleep on the floor if it meant he got to use such a nice shower and have a court so close by.

It helps that Neil is no stranger to sleeping on floors.

 

Neil is soon joined in the bathroom by Andrew, who raises an eyebrow at him in question. “It’s really nice,” Neil says. Andrew nods and lifts himself onto the bathroom counter. Neil steps between his legs.  _Their names would be on the lease together._ _Neil’s chicken-scratch next to Andrew’s flowy cursive._ Neil’s insides flipped in the best way at the thought.

 

“Is it a yes, though?”

 

“I mean, it’s your wallet,” Neil grins, but nods. “But yeah, I think so." They could make a home here. A  _home._

 

Andrew looks contemplative. He brushes back a bit of Neil’s hair. “Remind me to cut your hair when we get back to Fox Tower. It’s getting too long on the sides again.”

 

“Mm,” Neil barely acknowledges him. He's mainly concerned with the fingers running through his hair and not with the sentiment itself. “I think you really are making me into a trophy wife. You don’t let me buy my own clothes _and_ you cut my hair now.”

 

“God knows you could not do either one of those things yourself without looking like a disease-ridden and highly malnourished twelve-year-old,” Andrew sighs, like listening to Neil speak exhausts him.

 

“That’s fair,” Neil relents. His hair is long enough up top to where he can sweep it into a stubby ponytail or bun, and he thinks that Andrew might like it a little too much. Neil didn’t think anything was wrong with his old bowl cut, but Andrew apparently did. Neil isn’t complaining, though--He loves it when Andrew tugs on his too-floppy curls, now. He also loves having Andrew cut his hair, even if Andrew always makes him sweep it up afterward.

 

Some might say that Neil is whipped. Some might say that Andrew is whipped. The Foxes have placed bet after bet on who is the most whipped, as though “whipped-ness” is a measurable quantity. It isn’t. Nicky is just dense. Allison just wants the money. Matt just likes gambling.

 

The truth is this: They aren’t whipped. They are smitten. And it is disgusting.

 

“I know,” Andrew says, placing his finger under Neil’s chin to tilt it upwards. “Because I’ve never been wrong about anything in my entire life.” One of Andrew’s rare smirks pulls at the corner of his mouth, just for Neil. He leans down to press a kiss to Neil’s lips from his position on the countertop. Andrew loves being taller than Neil and takes advantage of every opportunity to gain a few inches on his _not-boyfriend_.

 

 _Boyfriend_ doesn't really feel like the correct term to use for what they have, but it's easy to say. When Andrew thinks about it, he supposes that he is just _Neil’s_ and Neil is just _his._

 

They weren’t answers for one another. They were more like study guides. Andrew and Neil memorized each other’s bodies, actions, reactions, and little ticks. In turn, they were more confident in the tests life threw at them. Neil would think of the first time he made Andrew blush, the six sugar cubes in Andrew’s coffee, the hand on the back of his neck, and the commentary throughout every Tarantino film. Andrew would think of a goofy smile and hesitant hands, spearmint tea, shared armbands, and the first time they trusted one another enough to go all the way. Their _nothing_ made things easier on bad days and made good days better with each one that passed.

 

“Mm, I don’t know about that, but whatever helps you sleep at night,” Neil hums.

 

“You can sleep on the couch tonight, Josten.”

 

“You’d miss me.”

 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

 

“You’re sleeping on the couch with me, then.”

 

Andrew scoffs. “Fuck no.”

 

“But Andrew. You help me sleep at night.”

 

Andrew focuses on Neil’s expression, but it's entirely innocent. The idiot really means that.

 

“Fuck you. Shut up,” Andrew grumbles.

 

“Make me.”

 

Andrew does.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey uhhhh just want a lil andriel domesticity, maybe future long-distance angst, maybe fluff and smut who can say
> 
> let me know if this is worth continuing!


	2. bubbly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew signs with the Sabres. He and Neil take a weekend off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some non-detailed, fluffy sexual activity at the end.  
> another warning for neil dabbing on andrew.

Andrew Minyard had a reputation on and off the court for being rather unpredictable when it came to just how well he would perform. In the second half of the semi-finals game against Breckenridge, Andrew had gifted Neil a shutout. The score read 10-7, Foxes favor, cementing their standing in the lineup for finals. Neil tore off his helmet and grinned fiercely, flicking his gaze over to Andrew and giving him a two-fingered salute. Andrew slid his helmet off and yelled in perfect Russian down the court.

 

“There’s your fucking shutout, Josten!”

 

Neil laughed and flipped him off. “See you in the Tower, Minyard.”

 

The winning score and surfacing of the presumed _Josten-Minyard rivalry_ were enough to tip everyone in attendance over the edge. The orange and white of the Foxhole Court exploded, then, and the Foxes could feel the cheers roaring in their ears and vibrating under their feet. Tonight was the night one of their own would be going pro, as well, and many fans and teammates alike stuck around after the handshakes to see Andrew take pictures with the coach and captain of the Nashville Sabres.

 

The terms of the contract were clear, which was one of the reasons why Andrew chose the Sabres in the end. He would be theirs for two years and would make over a million starting out. With Kevin Day calling him to Court, no one was willing to shy on a salary. Nashville, despite being in Tennessee, was a rather progressive and quickly-growing area, so no clauses dictating relationships for PR purposes existed. If it somehow came out that he and Neil were together, he didn’t want to face the legal issues. The Sabres agreed to let him keep his sponsorship with Nike, as well, and wouldn’t force him to do more than two photo shoots a year. Then there was the distance--Nashville was still six hours away from Neil, but it wasn’t Colorado, Texas, or New York.

 

(Kevin would be livid about the fact that Andrew hadn’t agreed to the terms of the Dallas Dragons contract, but to be frank, Andrew didn’t want to share a team with Kevin again unless he was with Neil and they were all on Court.)

 

All the papers were signed and dated and initialed. Andrew refused to shake anyone’s hand, but he at least didn’t _scowl_ for the pictures. He simply stared. The Sabres thanked him and he nodded, which was more than most people would ever get out of him. They knew what they signed up for in signing him, it seemed. They had done their research after all.

 

Andrew headed back to the showers, more than eager to take off his disgusting gear. Before he could change out, Wymack stopped him.

 

“Hey, kid. Congrats. Got you something to celebrate,” Wymack said, pulling a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue from behind his back.

 

“Is having a son making you sentimental, Coach?” Andrew asked, taking the bottle from Wymack and tucking it under his arm.

 

“Don’t push it, Minyard.” Wymack reached out and let his hand hover over Andrew’s shoulder. Andrew nodded his consent and Wymack let his hand rest there. “You’re another one of my fucked up kids, and I’m fucking proud of you. Go shower and share that shit with your boyfriend. You’re smelling up my locker room.”

 

Andrew nodded and turned to walk to the showers. Halfway through the door, he stopped. “Coach?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Wymack smiled. "Yeah, kid."

 

\---

 

Andrew walks out to the Maserati to see Neil leaning up against the side, another stupid grin on his face.

 

“Oh, here he comes, Andrew Joseph Minyard! Andrew, tell us, what’s it like to have been signed? The baddest bitch in exy has finally chosen a team. What do you think your fans will say?” Neil croons.

 

To confirm that he is, in fact, the baddest bitch in exy, Andrew bypasses Neil entirely, locks him out of the car, revs the engine, and drives a few feet.

He eventually unlocks the car and allows Neil to scramble inside. Neil is still grinning, for some reason, and Andrew starts to wonder if Neil hit his head while he was in the showers.

 

“I’m proud of you, Andrew. Really.”

 

“We’re skipping the afterparty tonight,” Andrew says, not wanting to dignify that remark with a response. 

 

Neil leans over the console into Andrew’s space and exaggeratedly bats his eyelashes. “Are you trying to get me _alone_?”

 

“I shut down the goal in return for something. I want a night away from Kevin Day’s posturing and a large chocolate Frosty from Wendy’s.”

 

“So where do I fit into this equation?”

 

“You pay for my Frosty and tell Kevin to fuck off.”

 

“You sure that’s all?” Neil asks. “My bag is in the back seat, it seems. So is yours. That means we might be going to Columbia.”

 

“We won’t be if you keep pissing me off.”

 

Neil laughs again and settles back into his seat. He calls Kevin only to say _don’t bother us until Sunday_ and reaches for Andrew’s hand. They hold hands through the Wendy’s drive-thru until Andrew needs someone to dip french fries in the Frosty when he hits the interstate. Neil dips fry after fry in and hands them off to Andrew while working through one of Andrew’s many pop-punk playlists. He has to admit, Panic! at the Disco writes _bops_ , as Nicky would say. He makes a habit of lip-syncing to Fall Out Boy’s “Novocaine” every time it comes on, always pointing at Andrew during the _I don’t feel a thing for youuu!_ line. _I’m just a problem that doesn’t wanna be solved! So put all of your anger on!_

 

Andrew takes his last chicken nugget and dips it into the Frosty (for science). He can practically hear Kevin crying as he chews. “Why do I keep you around? I constantly manage to forget,” Andrew sighs, turning up the music and upending the last of the ice cream into his mouth. 

 

“God, you're gross. Don’t get pissy at me about my love for Fall Out Boy, Emo Bitch. You cannot be the sole member of the Pete Wentz fan club." Neil dabs like Matt showed him to after a "sick burn" (mostly because Andrew hates it), kicks off his shoes, and puts his feet up on the dash.

 

“Ryan Ross is my choice celebrity lover and you know that. If you make my car smell like socks, I will leave you in a ditch. The next time you dab, you're getting pushed out the door while I'm going 80 on a sharp turn.”

 

“You’ve threatened to kill me for lesser offenses,” Neil shrugs.

 

That’s true.

 

Neil takes Andrew’s hand again and blasts half of _A Fever You Can't Sweat Out_ with the windows down before they finally pull up to the house. Andrew kills the engine and retrieves their bags while Neil gathers up the wrappers from their fast food. They move in harmony like that often, always working around and with one another. Neil uses _his_ key on the door.

 

They settle onto the couch and watch the one Tarantino movie they haven’t seen yet: _Pulp Fiction._ Neil looked up triggers in it beforehand and passes Andrew his phone to warn him of them. There’s death, there’s the briefcase, and there’s Uma Thurman overdosing by _snorting heroin._ The watch is left on the kangaroo. Honeybunny loses her shit. When the time comes, Neil skips over Zed and company until Bruce Willis is saying _Zed’s dead, Baby. Zed’s dead._ Andrew smirks at that, at least.

 

Once the movie is over, Neil is lying between Andrew’s legs, his back pressed to Andrew’s chest. Andrew is attempting to braid his hair and failing miserably. He settles for putting some of it in a ponytail directly on top of Neil’s head. He looks a bit like a pineapple this way.

 

Neil pulls the elastic off and shakes out his hair, craning his neck to get a good look at Andrew. “You think you’re being cute with that shit?” He asks, stretching out his legs.

 

“Yes,” Andrew deadpans. Neil tries not to giggle at that, but he fails.

 

“I don’t know about cute, but you are pretty hot,” Neil comments, trying to sound nonchalant.

 

“Damn right,” Andrew says. He bites the rest of the lollipop he’s been working on off the stick.

 

When he kisses Neil, he tastes like mangos.

 

\---

 

After a lot of kissing, Neil feels lightheaded and fuzzy around the edges. He reaches up to brush his thumb over his own swollen lips and sighs. Andrew had ducked out to go to the bathroom, and Neil _might just miss him already._ He directs his gaze back to the TV, where Alton Brown relays just what Iron Chef Cat Cora did to a squid. Neil doesn’t understand any of _Iron Chef America._

He does understand just how good Andrew’s hands felt on his sides a few minutes ago, though.

 

“Come upstairs,” Andrew says from the staircase, effectively snapping Neil out of his reverie.

 

“Be there in a sec.” Neil turns off the TV and the few lights that are on here and there, checking to make sure that the doors are locked and that the security system is armed. Once he’s satisfied, he takes the steps two at a time. The scent of lavender suddenly hits him, and then Andrew is standing in front of him, arms crossed.

 

“I’m taking a bath.”

 

“I didn’t know you took baths,” Neil says. This might as well be a breakthrough.

 

“People take baths, Neil.” Andrew mumbles something that is probably derogatory under his breath and peels the black bands off his arms.

 

Neil follows suit. “Is this an invitation to take a bath with you?”

 

Andrew doesn’t answer, but he takes Neil’s armbands and places them onto the sink next to his own. That’s a yes. Neil closes the bathroom door behind both of them.

 

“Don’t take off your boxers. Everything else is okay.” Andrew’s voice is softer than usual.

 

Neil leans in to press a kiss to Andrew's neck in thanks for taking another step forward. Andrew shoves Neil’s face away and quickly strips down to his briefs. He wore the ones that Neil likes. Neil blushes and flounders for a bit. Andrew is not amused by this and roughly yanks Neil’s shirt off to get him to blink.

 

“Staring, Josten.”

 

“Who, me? I don't know what you’re talking about.” Neil shrugs and pushes down his sweatpants, almost tripping as he steps out of them. Andrew makes it hard for him to focus sometimes.

 

Andrew rolls his eyes and walks over to the bath. He checks the temperature one more time and decides that it’s okay. It is only then that Neil notices how liberal Andrew was with their lavender soap. When Andrew sits down in the tub, he looks like he slipped into a _void of bubbles_. The sight is honestly ridiculous--Andrew, with all his hard lines and edges, submerged in and surrounded by sweetly-scented suds and warmth. Neil must be grinning because Andrew flips him off and splashes him.

 

Neil steps closer to the edge of the bath and scoops up a mound of bubbles. He makes eye contact with Andrew and then places it atop Andrew’s head.

 

“I’m going to drown you.”

 

“Not if I drown you first.”

 

“How old are you, twelve? Get an original comeback and maybe I will let you into the tub.”

 

Neil rolls his eyes. “Since when are you the king of the bubble bath, Bitch?”

 

“Since I founded and took control of Bathtub Kingdom five minutes ago, Cunt. Get in the fucking tub.”

 

Neil doesn’t get in, obviously, because he likes to be contradictory. Naturally, at Neil’s display of bitch-assery, Andrew pulls him in by the arm. Water sloshes out of the side to pool on the floor, and Neil splashes Andrew in retaliation. Andrew doesn’t let Neil have the last splash.

A well-timed kiss stops their bickering and Neil eventually settles opposite Andrew in the tub with their legs tangled together under the surface.

 

“If you were a fish, you would be a great white shark,” Neil notes. They’ve been watching nature documentaries lately.

 

Andrew likes that comparison. “Keep going.”

 

“Mm, you’re buff, and white. And...Sometimes, you attack when unprovoked.” Neil grins. Andrew tries not to.

 

“Well, if I am a shark, then you are a moray eel,” Andrew decides. When Neil opens his mouth to argue, Andrew holds up a finger. “You hide in crevices, you’re skinny, you’re fast, and you can be quite vicious,” Andrew raises an eyebrow and looks up at Neil. “Speaking of, you should not have been on press duty last week, not with that reporter from ESPN 2 there. What was it you said to her?”

 

“Oh, you want to hear it a second time, Mr. Eidetic Memory?” Andrew pinches his ankle and Neil relents. “What did she say, again, Andrew?”

 

“‘Josten, we’re coming up on the third anniversary of Riko Moriyama’s tragic suicide. You were supposed to be his Number 4. Do you ever feel as though your win that night and your teammate’s defense on your behalf drove him to kill himself? Do you regret possibly having a hand in taking exy’s finest?’” Andrew repeats, sounding amused.

 

“Ah, of course. I believe it was something like this: ‘Exy’s finest? I didn’t know the bar was set that low.’” Neil is still proud of that one.

 

If one thing in the world makes Andrew Minyard weak, it is Neil Josten’s sharp tongue and quick wit.

 

“That _fucking_ mouth.”

 

“Why don’t you come and make use of it?”

 

Andrew does.

 

\---

 

After they each have a shot of scotch (courtesy of Wymack), they slip into bed. Neil holds himself above Andrew so that their bodies don’t touch as he kisses Andrew’s neck. Andrew taps Neil’s wrist once to signal that touches above the waist are okay for now. Neil places his hand over Andrew’s heart to feel the steady beat of it under his hand. They are both alive and they are together.

 

Neil can taste the words neither one of them can say on Andrew’s tongue, and it is enough.

 

Giving head is never a glamorous affair, but the soft noises Andrew makes when he is entirely alone with Neil make Neil feel like he’s floating. Andrew’s fingers tangle in his hair and pull. That’s encouraging. He wraps his hand around what he can’t reach with his mouth and finds the rhythm that will take Andrew apart. Andrew freely groans when he can’t take it anymore.

 

Whispered questions and _yeses_ soon have Andrew’s careful fingers inside Neil. When Andrew pauses to take Neil on his tongue and crooks his fingers to hit what turns Neil’s brain to mush, Neil loses the little reserve he had left.

 

The sound of ripping foil. The pop of a cap.  _Andrew, Andrew, Andrew._

 

This was the third time they had managed to get this far, _not that Neil was counting_.

 

They had talked about it for months before they decided that they were both ready. Their first time was over Christmas break. Neither one of them finished, but they decided that they would try again. The second time was on Neil’s birthday, and Neil thought he would die from how  _intense_ it was.

 

It was still intense, now, and Neil thought it always would be. Andrew trusted him with this. Neil felt full in more than one way.

 

Neil falls asleep in Andrew’s arms that night. Andrew doesn’t pull away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy howdy. they are in love aren't they
> 
> my roommate and i got wendy's tonight and we dipped our chicken nuggets in frostys.  
> it's not that bad.
> 
>  
> 
> pop-punk fantasy albums mentioned are 'a fever you can't sweat out' by panic! at the disco and 'american beauty/american psycho' by fall out boy. andrew's emo soul loves fever era panic! at the disco and fall out boy. you can't fight me on this because i'm right.


	3. monsters, inc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's the CHAMPIONSHIP GAME. there's another deal to make.

Andrew really hates how often Bee is right.

 

She told him to start noticing as many little things as he could to keep the ever-present drone of darker thoughts at bay. _It might help you start to enjoy little things instead of big ideas,_ Bee had said. _You focus on intricacies that matter, yes, but not on intricacies that do not matter._ He supposes that if he is going to have a shrink, he should try to do what she says. Otherwise, it is a waste of time and effort to show up to appointments.

 

So, Andrew starts paying attention to small things that don’t really matter.

 

In an Astronomy class he took for an easy A, he learned that photons were quanta, or little discrete packets, of light. Light is the opposite of darkness. To keep the darkness out, he could package bits of light.

 

He starts quantizing things that aren’t...Unpleasant.

 

The last game Andrew will ever play for the Palmetto State Foxes is against the USC Trojans. They are the final two teams. It’s a home game, which has Neil more sentimental than he usually is. Andrew has been trying to keep Neil distracted all day because he knows that his _not-boyfriend_ is afraid that this will be the last game they will ever play together.

 

Neil, as anxious as he is stupid.

 

Neil should know that Andrew will transfer to whatever team Neil is on as soon as he goes pro. That doesn’t mean Andrew will tell him that. Emotional vulnerability and communication issues come along with shit childhoods, it seems. Who would have thought?

 

They start the day by making pancakes in the dorm kitchen and watching movies. Together, they’ve started making up for their veritable lifelong adulthood. They play tabletop games and Nicky's old GameCube from time to time and watch family movies like _Lilo & Stitch _ and _The Emperor’s New Groove._

 

It’s something about the colors in Disney films, Andrew thinks. Neil’s life has always devoid of anything that wasn’t black, white, scarlet red, or ice blue—and now _orange._ That’s something to quantize. Neil and colors. Neil eats whipped cream and strawberries on his pancakes instead of chocolate chips. That’s something to quantize, too. _Shove all the little Neil things into the Neil-Pile of light. You know what light is? It’s energy. You know what energy can take the form of? Heat. Andrew wants to burn everything in the Neil-Pile until it is ash because every time he thinks of snarky comments or tender kisses or slouchy jeans he feels like he is on fire and he needs to show the Neil-Pile who the fucking boss is. It’s Andrew. Andrew is the fucking boss._

 

Out of all Disney films, Neil has the biggest affinity for _Monsters, Inc._ Maybe it isn’t just the nice colors. Perhaps he has a kinship with Boo or something. Maybe he sees Randall as Riko and loves watching bad guys suffer copious amounts of blunt-force trauma. Andrew thinks—no, knows—that they have watched _Monsters, Inc._ eight times this semester. He is so tired of seeing Sulley near-faint when he thinks Boo gets compacted into trash and is _so tired of hearing Neil giggle at the faces Sulley makes as he thinks he is watching a tiny human be juice-pressed into a cube._

 

“Andrew, if I was put under a hydraulic press, how much force would it take to turn me into a puddle?” Neil asks.

 

“Under ideal circumstances, the human body can withstand 19,000 pounds of weight per cubic inch of bone. That equates to pulling about 46 times the force of gravity if you want to think about it that way,” Andrew explains, reaching into the bag of mini-chocolate chips to grab another handful for his breakfast. _This is true cuisine._

 

“Oh, that’s fucking—”

 

“Boyd taught you all the worst slang. Do not say dope.”

 

“That’s. Fucking. _Dope._ ” Neil pauses after every word and exaggeratedly enunciates the ‘p’ in _dope._

 

Andrew drags his thumb through the syrup on his plate and smears it all over Neil’s face.

 

Neil lets out the most wonderful peal of laughter. Andrew’s heart _hurts._

 

_Quantized._

 

Once the movie ends, Neil turns in his place on the couch to look at Andrew. It’s a question, and Andrew nods his consent. Neil curls up next to him.

 

“Hey,” Neil smiles, reaching up to touch a curl of Andrew’s hair.

 

Andrew hums and reaches down to card his fingers through Neil’s hair. It’s freshly cut for the game tonight. The closely-shaved sides feel like peach fuzz under his fingertips. _Quantizing things might...Help. What the fuck?_

 

“Let’s make a deal,” Neil says after a beat. He has Andrew’s attention.

 

“Okay. What do you propose?” Andrew asks.

 

Neil purses his lips for a moment. “I couldn’t sleep well last night. After you fell asleep, I got on my phone for a bit. Did you know that _Monsters, Inc._ has its own attraction at Disney World?”

 

Andrew wants to kill Neil. He hates Neil so much. “You want to go to Disney World.”

 

“If we win tonight, yeah. I mean, if you want. It’s just that we never really, you know—Got to do things like that growing up, and...” Neil blushes a bit and wrings his hands together like he does when he’s afraid to admit to something. Afraid to want. The need to run is in his eyes. Not as strong as it used to be, but Andrew knows Neil is tensing up to run to the bathroom and act like he never asked.

 

“If you make the winning goal tonight, I will take you to Disney World.”

 

Neil smiles the most blindingly beautiful smile. It pulls at his scars and his single dimple shows. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Hope you’re ready to wear Mickey Mouse ears with me.”

 

_Quantized._

 

Andrew looks down at his _not-boyfriend._ His smirk is barely there. “Don’t push it.”

 

\---

 

It’s the final quarter. The few underclassmen on the court are only focused on the game. Nicky and Aaron are playing better tonight than they ever have. Kevin is shouting from the sidelines. It’s something about Neil’s footwork, but it’s obvious that Neil isn’t listening. The roar of the crowd is in their ears and the game is tied up, both teams with four goals behind them. The Foxes have possession, now, but the Trojan defense line is nothing short of brutal. They aren’t rude or making detrimental body checks, they just seem to know where every person is going before that person does.

 

 _Tick, tick, tick._ He can’t hear it, but Andrew knows that out of the corner of his eye, the red numbers overhead are dwindling down. His eyes are only on the ball, now. _Striker statistics for USC. Jennings usually goes for the middle right. Zheng, top left. If one of them gets the ball, Andrew will snap it back down the court at the Trojan backliners’ feet._

 

No more balls will be in Andrew’s goal tonight. The Foxes will either score two more points to beat the Trojans, or the Trojans will win the title.

 

_Twist. Woosh. Pop._

 

The plexiglass rattles with the force of Jack’s hit. It hardly makes it, but the goal lights up red. 5-4, Fox favor. Neil clacks racquets with him, and Jack nods. That’s about as nice as Neil will ever get when it comes to his second-eldest striker. Neil takes off his helmet as they reset to fix his bandana. Sweat drips onto his jersey. His voice is deep when he snaps what might be considered encouragement to the Foxes. _Keep it together, fuckers. Get possession. Move it. Be faster than them. Be faster than me. Don’t fucking think, just play. Give your all for this fucking game_ is booming through the court and through Andrew’s veins. His heartbeat picks up. Neil puts his helmet back on and Andrew falls back into his defensive position. He is a brick wall. His toes curl in his shoes. His racquet is glued to his hands.

 

_Quantized. Quantized. Quantized._

 

Dermott holds the line well. She’s damn-near impenetrable, but Neil is the best striker in Exy.

 

Not Kevin Day, no. Neil. Kevin is all angles and 400 variations of footwork technique for every conceivable play. He’s the weight of the racquet and the tightness in the abdomen behind a powerful swing. Neil knows people. He eliminates threats. He slips through and around and moves too quickly. Neil is unpredictable on the court, and everyone knows that.

 

That’s why, with twenty seconds left on the clock, no one is surprised when Neil makes another impossible shot. Neil uses his ten steps, knocks the ball off the opposite wall, jumps, catches, and slams the ball past Dermott’s ear. Andrew’s pulse is deafening in his ears. Neil looks to him, and Andrew knows that behind his mouth guard, carefully chosen words are forming on Neil’s tongue. _Quantized._ Andrew’s already thinking of responses.

 

The rest of the game is a death match. Reckless energy is electricity in the air, making every hair raise and every pore prickle. Andrew blocks the shot that comes his way and sends it out like a projectile, a ballistic missile, and it _slams_ onto the polished wood. Nicky is somewhere. Andrew can hear him laughing. _Tick, tick, tick._ Last night in orange. Last night as a Fox. Last night with Nicky and Aaron and this team and Wymack and _fuck._

 

The buzzer sounds. The announcer’s voice is unintelligible. Andrew reads the scoreboard. 7-4. Neil had made another shot before the tension could even leave Andrew’s muscles. On the plasma screens above, past-Neil scoops up Andrew’s missile and fires it between a backliner’s legs. It zips past Dermott’s left foot. It counts. Andrew looks back down at the court. Neil is standing in front of him. He fists his hand into Neil’s sweat-soaked jersey. To the audience, it’s a threat. To Neil, it’s grounding. “Showing off?”

 

Neil places his hand over Andrew’s and spits out his mouth guard. “Depends. Are you impressed?”

 

Andrew pushes Neil away from him when Neil’s grin becomes too much. _Quantized._ “Thought you could do better than five goals, Josten. Might be losing your touch.”

 

“You let a ball past you tonight in the first ten,” Neil notes, and gives Andrew a little salute. “Distracted?” When Andrew flips him off, Neil returns the gesture, along with a little something in Russian. “I know you like what all the squats have done for me.” He has the audacity to wink. _To wink._

 

Handshakes, good game, what the fuck ever. Andrew steps off the court and the press is there, asking questions about his signing and his graduation and his final game with Palmetto. He ignores every question save one.

 

_"Andrew Minyard, how will you celebrate winning your final college championship?”_

 

“I’m going to Disney World,” Andrew deadpans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;-) let me know what you think about the direction this bitch is headed


	4. reverence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our boys make it to disney world. they go to magic kingdom and neil makes andrew wear mickey mouse ears for at least four seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi yeah uh there's some fluffy sexy shit at the end bye

Neil sees the gates before Andrew does.

 

He reaches to flip up their sun visors and turns down the radio.

 

_Walt Disney World: Where Dreams Come True._

 

“Mickey and Minnie think highly of themselves, don’t they?” Andrew mumbles.

 

Neil snorts and rolls the windows down, then pokes his head out the window to breathe in the Florida air. Disney must scent the _air_ or something. “We’re slipping into the fifth dimension, Andrew.”

 

“The fuck is this place?” Andrew furrows his eyebrows and looks a little disgusted. Or troubled. Or curious. Maybe all three. “And what hotel are we staying in? Signs are coming up soon.”

 

Neil unfolds his map of the Disney Parks (because he _doesn’t trust GPS and hates having his location services turned on_ ) and flips it around before he finds the road that they’re on. “Straight ahead, turn left on Seven Seas Drive.”

 

Andrew looks murderous. “You did not.”

 

“ _The Polynesian_. I know _Lilo & Stitch _ is your favorite.”

 

Andrew turns to argue, but Neil is looking at him like _that._

If Andrew blushes, Neil doesn’t see it, because Andrew shoves his face away. “312%.”

 

Neil reaches into the floorboard to unzip his backpack and pulls out a box with several Disney characters littering the front. He opens it up and plucks out two wristbands--one black, one gray. He takes the black one and fastens it around Andrew’s wrist. “ _Magic Bands._ They house our money, room key, and park tickets. You just wear them everywhere.”

 

Andrew narrows his eyes at the band and pulls onto the proper road. “Does everything here have Mickey Mouse’s decapitated head on it?”

 

“Pretty sure, Andrew, yeah. You signed up for this, remember?”

 

“For _this?_ ” Andrew asks, gesturing between the two of them. “Because _this_ is why I’m here staring at mice and aliens for a week.”

 

 _This._ “What’s _this_?” Neil grins. It makes Andrew look murderous all over again.

 

“I’ve suddenly developed short-term memory loss,” Andrew drawls. He flicks up his middle finger in Neil’s direction. Once they park, Neil kisses him, and Andrew almost forgets why he is currently pissed at Neil. _Almost._

 

“That jog your memory?” _Cocky bastard._

 

“Mm, no. Nothing.” Andrew smiles at Neil. No teeth, just smugness.

 

“Asshole,” Neil mumbles. Not nothing. _Everything._ Those rare smiles from Andrew make Neil feel like everything is _okay._ They will be okay.

 

“That’s me. Get your ass out of my car, Josten. Stitch is waiting.”

 

“Yes _Dear._ ”

 

Andrew throws his bag at Neil.

 

\---

 

They don’t let the bellboy take their bags, but they do allow someone to escort them to where they will be staying. After their Magic Bands are activated, the concierge gives them a quick tour of the _Great Ceremonial House,_ which is apparently what they call the main building of the resort. There are several restaurants and gift shops scattered about, and Neil already has his eyes peeled for mouse ears. He is going to have the most stereotypical experience he can manage, God damn it. Their guide points upstairs to show them where the Monorail leaves for certain parks before taking them outside by the pools and Seven Seas Lagoon. They wind around the paths between buildings.

 

“So, you’re both friends of the Reynolds family, yes? It’s an honor to get to stay in the Villas. The Disney Vacation Club is definitely worth the extra bit of money for those kinds of amenities. The view is expensive, itself―” The employee babbles on and Andrew drowns them out until he can’t take it anymore. He reaches out to squeeze Neil’s hand.

 

“This way, right? We’ll be good from here. Thanks,” Neil quips, and leaves the concierge looking a bit like a fish. Fitting, at least.

 

Neil doesn’t let go of Andrew’s hand. Andrew doesn’t let go of Neil’s, either.

 

They use their wristbands to unlock their villa and Neil makes sure to send a _We’re safe_ text to Wymack and a _Thank you_ to Allison for letting them use her membership. Andrew takes their bags to the bedroom while Neil explores. Everything seems too perfect.

 

It’s unsettling.

 

The attention to detail is baffling. The furniture is _just_ the right color of wood, carved in _just_ the right way--It’s meant to look rustic, even though it’s obvious that it’s brand new. The tile in the kitchenette and in the bathroom features the bright reds and blues of the _Lilo & Stitch_ movies. Neil finds two _Hidden Mickeys_ to add to the madness. Before he gets too overwhelmed, he finds Andrew, who has slipped out onto the porch set off their room. The view looks over the Lagoon and Cinderella’s Castle looms off in the distance.

 

Neil feels more real than the world he is currently in, and that’s new. He knows why the gates say _Where Dreams Come True._ Here, looking at Andrew trace his fingers over a little mural of Nani and Lilo on their hammock, he thinks that might just be the case.

 

Neil walks over to where Andrew stands. “ _Ohana._ ”

 

 _Ohana_ means family. _Family_ means no one gets left behind, or forgotten.

 

Andrew nods and leans back against Neil.

 

\---

 

After a quick nap, they head to Magic Kingdom for dinner and a little fun, since it’s open latest and is on the Monorail trackline. Neil made them dinner reservations (not because it was a _date_ but because you literally couldn’t eat anywhere at Disney without them but he also wouldn't be mad if Andrew considered it a date even though it isn't because they don't have to have dates and stuff because that's how they work you know) at The Plaza because it had an ice cream shop next door. _Purely coincidental,_ he’d say, and Andrew would smack him ~~lovingly~~.

 

They pick apart a map of the park once they are on the Monorail. Andrew commits it to memory. He can't bring his knives into the parks, much to his dismay, so they had decided before they left that bringing Neil’s newly-prescribed anxiety medication and knowing any of their possible outs at the park would be the best way to have some peace of mind. Things had been quiet for a long time, but Neil was still a runaway at heart and Andrew couldn’t stand to be touched some days. That didn’t mean that they weren’t getting better. They were at Disney World together, after all.

 

 _“Please stand clear of the doors._ _Por favor manténganse alejado de las puertas.”_

 

They make it off the Monorail and down from the platforms into security checks. The parks weren’t horrifically busy yet since it was still early May, and for that, Neil was thankful. He begrudgingly hands over his phone, wallet, and keys and walks through the metal detector. He and Andrew both make it through without issue, but something about the clinical coldness of situations like that always leaves them both uneasy. Neil briefly wonders if anyone has ever tried to bomb or shoot up Disney World. Probably--But right now, he’s too excited to focus on that. They scan their bands on the strange Mickey Mouse Head poles and are  _finally_ admitted entry.

 

Neil had read about how the buildings on Main Street, U.S.A. were made to look taller than they actually were. Disney was scarily clever to those that paid attention. Neil focuses on how the buildings lean and how they are highlighted and shadowed and points out the little intricacies to Andrew as they walk down the strip.

 

“Are you going to stop hyperfixating on Exy and start hyperfixating on Walt Disney, instead? I’m not sure which is worse.” Andrew reaches into Neil’s backpack for a lollipop (Neil always keeps candy in there for him) and tries not to move his head to the infectious beat of the music blasting from invisible speakers.  _Brainwashing, who? Disney doesn't know her._

 

“Fuck you, I’m—” _Spotted. Mouse ears._ “Going in here. Andrew.” Neil grabs Andrew’s hand and drags him into the first gift shop. It is _sprawling_ with ears. They line an entire wall.

 

“My point exactly,” Andrew sighs. His boyfriend is an idiot. Shit, he means _not-boyfriend. His Neil. Whatever. Fuck._

 

Neil purchases two _ridiculously priced_ pairs of Mickey Mouse ears and immediately zips outside to rip off the tag and place them on his head. He looks at his reflection in the windowpane and is obviously pleased with himself.

 

 _Neil looks like an idiot, but he doesn’t look bad,_ Andrew thinks. _Neil is pretty._

_Pretty fucking stupid._

 

Then the dreaded moment arises. Neil tears the tag off Andrew’s pair of mouse ears and shoves the bag into his backpack.  _God. Damn. It._ Neil’s unbearably gentle fingers thread through his hair to fix a few stray curls before a stupid headband with stupid fucking mouse ears attached is snapped onto his skull.

 

“I really, _really_ hate you.”

 

“Yeah,” Neil chirps and grins at Andrew. “You look cute.”

 

“ _Neil Abram J_ —”

 

They’re immediately stopped by a photographer.

Fuck.

 

“Hi, boys! Welcome to Main Street, U.S.A.! Would you like your picture made?”

 

Andrew will kill Neil Josten tonight―In the shower, perhaps. Neil will not suspect it. Andrew will waterlog him. He will make Neil slip and hit his head on the faucet. He will hang Neil from the shower rods. Andrew will— _Stop thinking, apparently,_ because Neil is looking at him with their question in his eyes because he _knows_ Andrew doesn’t like having his picture made. But...Andrew knows that Neil likes things like this. Neil likes normalcy and stereotypes and things that make him feel real. Andrew wants Neil to feel real.

 

Maybe Andrew wants to feel real, too.

 

“Make sure you get my good side,” Andrew mumbles. Neil _beams._

 

Andrew won’t wait until tonight to kill Neil. After this photo is taken, he will impale Neil on one of the spires of the castle. He will ward off every person that dares to enter Magic Kingdom with the blood of his _not-boyfriend._ It will be smeared onto the doors of the palace during the fireworks show. Neil will be an offering to—

 

“Thank you, boys! Have a magical day!” The photographer smiles and stands on their tiptoes to exaggeratedly wave them off.

 

Andrew almost throws off his mouse ears and shoves them into Neil’s backpack.

 

“315%. Choke.”

 

\---

 

“Okay, so,” Neil starts. Andrew looks up from his double scoop cone of Chocolate Mudslide ice cream and raises an eyebrow expectantly. “What segment of Magic Kingdom do you want to go to tonight?”

 

“Tomorrowland. Easy,” Andrew says. Of course, he remembers all of the attractions there from the map, and they look like some of the best this park has to offer. Not as child-oriented as the rest.

 

Neil nods and sticks the map back into his pack. “Tomorrowland is also home to _Stitch’s Great Escape!._ Are you sure you aren’t just a _Lilo & Stitch _fanboy?”

 

“I’m sure that you need to shut the fuck up.”

 

“That’s fair,” Neil smirks.

 

Andrew leads the way over to Tomorrowland. It’s entirely different from Main Street. Everything looks futuristic in that strange 60’s America way. In the center of it all, rocket ships buzz around imaginary planets. Synth-heavy science-fiction music curls around each visitor along with the smell of kettle corn (which is already affecting Andrew). All of it makes Neil feel like an astronaut, which he assumes is the goal. Damn Disney and their immersive experiences. The first attraction on their left is _Stitch’s Great Escape!._ The wait is only 15 minutes long, so they pop into the queue. Andrew shares a few licks of his scoops with Neil, and as Neil watches Andrew’s tongue displace ice cream, he gets caught up in how much he’d rather taste the ice cream on his _not-boyfriend’s_ lips. By the time Andrew finishes, they’re at the front of the next group to go in. Neil licks his thumb and wipes a bit of chocolate from the corner of Andrew’s lip, then pushes his thumb into his own mouth to rid it of the sticky sweetness (and to make a point). To distract himself from his horrible tease of a _not-boyfriend,_ Andrew turns to the left and reads all of the warnings on the sign outside. Before he gets to the end, they’re being invited in by the voice of the Grand Councilwoman. Neil is practically _dragging him_ inside.

 

They listen to Pleakley’s spiel, first. They’re new recruits for the Galactic Federation on Planet Turo, set to observe the capture of a low-level criminal. When people inevitably start squeezing forward to the front of the line, Andrew stays a step behind Neil so that no one crowds him too closely. Neil places his hands on the dividers and focuses on the story. The petty criminal disappears to make room for another, much higher-level offender. They’ll need all the backup they can get. Their regular holding capsules won’t be enough to house this _evil experiment,_ so they move to a high-security room, and that’s where the ride truly starts. Andrew and Neil find seats on the outer circle of three that surround another holding chamber and _plasma guns._  Neil pulls the safety bars down around him and looks to Andrew. Andrew doesn’t look bored. That’s a good thing.

 

Stitch appears before them and, as the name of the attraction might imply, promptly escapes. He kills the lights and leaves the entire room in pitch blackness. Neil did not know that would happen. He also had no idea that the weaponry at the center of the room would start pointing at everyone as it tried to find Stitch’s biosignature. _It’s fake. It’s fake._

 

Neil snaps when he feels breath at his neck and something _jumping_ on his seat.

 

 _“Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy!”_ Stitch squeals. Neil slams his arm over the pads and bars at Andrew’s chest. He feels lightheaded. The darkness and not knowing what will happen next in such a hot, confined space is becoming oppressive. _Fuck. It’s a children’s ride, Neil, pull yourself together. You’re being fucking ridiculous._ If only his arms were fully free, he could _—Nothing bad can happen to you here unless something shorts out or you get stuck in your harness or oh fuck oh--_

 

Andrew calmly takes Neil’s hand to rub the pad of his thumb over the flesh of Neil’s palm.

 

Then Stitch burps chili-cheese-dog breath in his face.

 

Okay. Maybe this thrill-ride thing isn’t so bad after all.

 

\---

 

Stitch, of course, steals the Big Red Battleship in the end.

 

Andrew leaves Neil’s side and walks back up to the edge of the line to read the rest of the warnings on the attraction’s sign. “Neil. The rides all have signs that list possible triggers, like confined spaces, darkness, loud noises, and flashing lights. Do not needlessly push yourself.” _Don’t hurt yourself because you want to do this. Do what you can. I want you to have fun._

 

Neil nods and hooks his pinky finger around Andrew’s in thanks. They stop by a garbage can so that Neil can take an anxiety pill. They’re non-addictive, so Bee says, but Neil still doesn’t like having any sort of drug in his system. He doesn’t want a repeat of the Stitch incident, though, especially not on an iconic ride like _Space Mountain_. He tries to get Andrew to take him there next, but Andrew shuts him down and takes him to a much smoother ride instead: _The PeopleMover._ It’s a simple cart on magnetic tracks that takes parkgoers on a tour of Tomorrowland. They ride through tunnels threading through other Tomorrowland attractions while a soft voice explains what they’re seeing.

 

Neil isn’t paying much attention. It’s around 7:45 and the Florida sun is setting. Andrew is illuminated by the light of the golden hour until they slip into a darker tunnel highlighting factoids about Epcot, another one of the Disney parks. Neil turns Andrew’s face towards him and presses a kiss to the corner of his lip. Andrew brushes his nose against Neil’s in a _yes_ and kisses him fully in return.

 

Neil is at Disney World. He is wearing mouse ears and can only taste chocolate ice cream and his _not-boyfriend._ He just won the college Exy national championships for a third time. Andrew has asked Neil to move in with him and Andrew is _here_ kissing Neil on a theme park ride. Neil wonders if Andrew would kiss him in front of Cinderella’s Castle.

 

Andrew’s hand slides up the front of Neil’s shirt and effectively stops that train of thought.

 

“I think I like Disney World,” Andrew says against Neil’s lips.

 

“Hm?” Neil breaks the kiss to mouth along Andrew’s jaw.

 

Andrew shivers. It makes his answer that much terser. “Because I get to monopolize your attention.”

 

“You do that anyway,” Neil sing-songs. His breath washes over Andrew’s neck.

 

Andrew grabs Neil’s chin and pulls him into another kiss.

 

They pull apart just out of view of the attendant. Andrew playfully nudges Neil and Neil pushes Andrew out of the cart.

 

\---

 

 _Astro Orbiter_ and _Space Mountain_ (Andrew’s new favorite thing) are their final stops before the day catches up with them. They can come back early the next day to finish off the park and see the fireworks at the castle. Neil decides that they should take the ferry back to the villa instead of waiting in the massive lines for the monorail, so they climb aboard and tuck themselves into a corner of the small boat. The fairy lights lining the safety rails make Neil glow as he trails his fingers through the water, and Andrew thinks he might have to rip his own heart out of his chest and feed it to the alligators that may or may not reside in Bay Lake. 

 

As soon as they’re through the door of the villa, it’s all warm hands and biting kisses. It is such a lovely distraction. Neil is pinned against the bathroom counter by Andrew’s hips with one leg hooked around Andrew’s waist. Andrew is such a lovely distraction that Neil forgot to lock the door when they came in. He has to break the kiss just to hobble out of the bathroom and twist the deadbolt into place.

 

“Neil. I want you naked when I see you again,” Andrew calls out from the bathroom.

 

Good thing stripping while speed-walking is one of Neil’s many talents.

 

Neil feels like a hole got punched through his core in the best way possible. One door slides open enough for Neil to slip through. Their _yeses_ have already been stated for the night. On nights like these, it is _yes_ until it is _no._ For some things, like touching Andrew below the waist, fingering, or full-blown sex, questions will always be asked, but for now, soft sounds and gliding fingertips are the only things in the world. As soon as Neil is through the door, Andrew is picking him up and pressing him against cool tile walls. It makes Neil shiver and that makes Andrew shiver, so he squeezes Neil’s ass in retaliation. Neil makes a sound that is _less than innocent_ because he doesn’t have to be quiet here.

 

“Monopolizing my attention again?” Neil asks as he wraps his arms around Andrew’s shoulders. “I am _not_ complaining, for the record.” He smooths his hands down the hard planes of Andrew’s back, his fingertips catching on the moles spattered here and there. Andrew bites down on Neil’s collarbone and the only functional part of Neil’s brain registers the fact that he is about to get a lot of hickeys. By the third mark, Neil is mindlessly dragging his nails up Andrew’s back and being generally pathetic because _fuck Andrew for being so good at this and having an eidetic memory and knowing every single thing that will drive him crazy._

 

“Maybe,” Andrew relents. His voice is slightly husky and that is _also_ maddening. “Just...Shut up.”

 

“Can’t shut up. Not when― _shit―_ you’re doing that,” Neil gasps. He has so many scars. So many scars from people he hates and still fears and from nights he wishes he could forget. Andrew overwrites them momentarily with bruises bred from something akin to _love_. Trust, maybe. That’s five hickeys, now, one dangerously close to where his collar lies. Neil suspects it’s on purpose. _Not that he is complaining._

 

Neil keeps making  ~~wonderfu~~ l unbearable noises and Andrew has no choice but to set Neil down and sink to the floor. It’s so easy to make Neil weak at the knees, and when Andrew swallows him whole and gazes up at him with something akin to _reverence_ , Neil looks lost, then found, then _gone._

 

Neil has a five-word vocabulary when he’s blissed out like this: _Andrew, yes, fuck, shit,_ and _more_. Every word sounds like a curse and a prayer to Andrew, and he intends on taking Neil to church tonight. Neil slips down the wall a bit when one of his legs twitches from the pleasure. Andrew flattens his hands against Neil’s hips to hold him up against the wall and keep him in place. To make Neil twitch again, he moans around him, and that produces the best noise from Neil he’s heard all night.

 

Andrew keeps staring up at Neil, eyes half-lidded and full of _want._  Andrew is allowed to want this. His sexuality is his _own_ and he has been reclaiming it bit by bit for years. First with boys whose names he doesn’t care to remember, then with Roland. Now with _Neil_. Always with Neil. Forever with Neil. It’s different with him, and Andrew knows why, but he won’t admit it to himself. Sex is easier if you don’t attach too many feelings to it.

 

 _Feelings_  are exactly why sex with Neil feels like Andrew’s world upended itself. Andrew can’t help but want to make Neil look like _that,_ though.

 

Neil returns the sentiment. Andrew couldn’t even look at him when they first started this, and now Andrew _won’t look away_.

 

Not that Neil would ever want him to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is the disney detail too much???? do you like it?????? please let me know this was a pretty difficult chapter to write oof  
> thanks for reading!


	5. fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew and neil are back at magic kingdom. shenanigans ensue.  
> banter. making out on broken down rides. threats of torturing peter pan.  
> it be like that sometimes

Andrew wakes up to their alarm with Neil’s head on his chest and body curled up against his side. Neil squeezes Andrew like the oversized teddy bear he is and groans at the incessant beeping of the clock. To top all of the morning adorableness off, Andrew’s shirt is noticeably darker directly underneath Neil’s mouth, which means that Neil Josten _was drooling_. Andrew grumbles something and reaches over to slam his palm down onto the snooze button.

 

“‘ndrew,” Neil yawns, his voice scratchy from disuse. He turns his head and props his chin on Andrew’s chest. “Gotta wake up.”

 

Andrew looks down at Neil’s sleep-mussed hair, the sleep lines on his cheeks, and the bit of drool on the side of his face and smiles. “You look fucking ridiculous.”

 

“You’re one to talk, Captain Cowlick.” Neil sticks his tongue out and smooths down the curls at the crown of Andrew’s head. “Really though, gotta get up. Got breakfast reservations for us.”

 

Andrew groans. _Why can’t he just spend the morning in bed? Why can’t he just eat Pop-Tarts and lay out by the pool? It’s Florida. He shouldn’t have to constantly be on his feet with another activity to do._

 

“Don’t start that shit,” Neil quips. “After breakfast, I planned time for us to relax here before we head back to Magic Kingdom. I know you, remember?”

 

“Sadly, yes.” Andrew sits up and raises his arms above his head to stretch. Neil takes this as an invitation to climb into his lap. When Andrew moves his arms behind his back to stretch that way, he’s met with a kiss from Neil.

 

“Shower,” Neil hums, and Andrew follows.

 

\---

 

Neil is wearing jorts, much to Andrew’s dismay.

 

He isn’t just angry because they’re an atrocity, no. Neil somehow makes jorts look good. He has cuffed the hems so that they sit just above his knees and has paired them with a white crewneck and the old beat-to-shit Vans Andrew bought him years ago. Somehow, perhaps by divine intervention, Neil has figured out how to piece outfits together. Maybe he asked Alison for help when it came to what he should pack. Maybe he just got lucky. Andrew doesn’t know, so he silently fumes and stares at Neil’s ass as they make their way up the steps of the Great Ceremonial House.

 

Neil leads Andrew to a restaurant upstairs called _‘Ohana._  They are escorted over to a two-person table that overlooks the resort grounds. The breakfast is served family style, so only a few minutes pass before they are met with trays of miniature Stitch-shaped waffles, fluffy scrambled eggs, fruit, and sausages. Andrew loads up on waffles and Neil sticks to protein and fruit. Typical. They chat about what they’re going to do that day and Andrew uses his phone to pick out their _FastPasses_ for the rides that will probably be the busiest. It seems like a normal breakfast until the main theme from _Lilo & Stitch _crescendos through the room.

 

Then someone in a Stitch character suit runs up to a table full of children.

 

Neil’s laugh is so bright and unrestrained that he nearly gives Andrew an aneurysm.

 

“Andrew. Hey. Hey, Andrew. Is that you?” Neil asks. Andrew looks over his shoulder to see _‘Stitch’_ crossing his arms and pretending to bat children away.

 

“Hey, Neil.” Andrew rips off a piece of his waffle and hits Neil in the face with it. “ _Pleakley looking-ass motherfucker.”_

 

“I am not Pleakley, oh my fucking God. I’m as dreamy as David and as _dangerous_ as Cobra Bubbles,” Neil argues. He dips his fingers into his water glass and flicks the droplets at Andrew.

 

Andrew pushes out his chair to go shove Neil’s face into his plate, but when he stands, he is face to face with Stitch. Of fucking course.

 

“Say ‘ _meega nala kweesta._ ’” Neil grins and holds up his phone to take a picture of Andrew and Stitch.

 

Andrew knows what _meega nala kweesta_ means because he is a _true Stitch fan_ and extends his arm down his leg to subtly flip of the camera. “I want to destroy.”

 

When Neil gets his picture made with Stitch, he pretends to be kissing Stitch’s cheek. _Because Andrew might as well be Stitch. ‘Andrew, is that you?’_

 

When Stitch leaves and they sit back down, Andrew speaks up first. “I meant what I said, you know.”

 

“You say lots of things.” Neil raises an eyebrow.

 

“I want to destroy you,” Andrew yawns, like the thought of killing Neil suddenly bores him.

 

Ever the instigator, Neil turns it around on him. “Save it for tonight. Maybe you can, if you’re lucky.” Neil winks because he’s gotten rather good at it (he practiced in the mirror for almost thirty minutes once so that he could surprise Andrew). Andrew is, predictably, not amused.

 

\---

Andrew sits by the side of the Oasis Pool and sips a sugar-heavy iced coffee while Neil toes into the water’s edge. The water must be a bit too chilly for him—Neil doesn’t like to be cold. He appears to be in need of some _help_ from his partner/not-boyfriend/whatever. Normally, Andrew would never consider executing the following actions, but since no one is around them, he doesn’t see any harm in having a bit of fun (i.e., antagonizing Neil). He shrugs out of his tee shirt and arm-bands and performs the fattest god damned cannonball this pool has ever seen. He succeeds in absolutely drenching Neil.

 

“Oh, _fuck_ you, Minyard.”

 

“Thought you said I had to wait until tonight, Josten.”

 

The biggest splashing contest in Disney history ensues. Neil _might have won,_ so Andrew starts piggybacking Neil around the deep end just to flip backward and dunk Neil underwater from time to time. Neil likes the proximity and isn’t willing to let go, so he acts like Andrew hasn’t done anything every time he goes under (mostly to annoy him).

 

“We’ve never been swimming before, not even at the beach,” Neil hums. “What made you change your mind today?”

 

Andrew shrugs. “Perhaps it’s the magic of Walt Disney’s ghost.”

 

“I think you wanted an excuse to get me freezing cold and then curl up with me. Am I wrong in assuming that, you clingy fuck?”

 

“Making assumptions is not attractive, Neil.”

 

“My assumptions are strongly based in past experiences and general Andrew-knowledge.” Neil rests his head on Andrew’s shoulder and presses a kiss to his neck. Andrew promptly dunks him underwater again.

 

“I hate you,” Andrew sighs.

 

Neil chuckles besider Andrew’s ear. _Goosebumps._ “Hate you too, Andrew.”

 

\---

 

Before they left the villa for the day, Neil asked if Andrew would consider taking a picture in front of Cinderella’s Castle with him, so that’s where they find themselves. They’re a bit of a sight to behold. Andrew is rather stuck on his pastel goth bullshit and Neil looks like he’s of the _you either skate or you die, bro_ mindset. The photographer seems thoroughly confused by them but thankfully doesn’t prod.

 

_Why are they so short? How old are they? How do these two people fit together in any conceivable way? So many questions..._

 

For the photo, they have decided to wear expressions that compliment the following train of thought:  _Two boys are preparing to murder Mickey Mouse and the rest of his fucked up gang. These kids did their research beforehand, and Goofy is apparently classified as an anthropomorphic polecat. What the actual fuck does that even mean? Why are Mickey and Pluto similarly sized when Pluto is an actual dog and Mickey is a mouse? If they’re all talking animals, why doesn’t Pluto fucking talk? Disney World doesn’t make any sense. Magic isn’t real. Neither was Cinderella. Get fucked, Walt._

 

“Smile!”

 

They don’t.

 

“Do you guys want to try another photo?”

 

“No,” Andrew deadpans.

 

Neil walks over to check the photo, and only then does he smile. “Thanks.”

 

“Have a...Magical day, I think?”

 

When they walk through the castle, Andrew links his pinky finger with Neil’s. Fantasyland comes first, today. Warming themselves up with some of the easier rides there before the influx of children inevitably comes into that part of the park seems like it’s the best move, so they hit up the famous teacups, the _Snow White Mine Train_ , and _Peter Pan’s Flight_. Peter Pan is actually manning the line as people go through. Andrew is a little disgusted. Neil is a twink, yeah, but this Peter Pan is a _twink._ Like, “ _Legally Blonde: The Musical is my favorite Broadway production,”_ twink. Twinklord McDisney pops up in front of them and taps Neil on the shoulder.

 

“Get in a fight with Captain Hook?” He asks, pointing to his own face in the spot where Neil’s scars are. “Been there, done that, Pal!” Neil has neglected to wear his armbands today, simply because of the Floridian temperatures, and Peter Pan’s eyes widen when he sees the scars that mar the skin there. “Say, you must be brave if you’re willing to tangle with that rabble more than once! That’s my kind of boy. Why don’t you come to Neverland and join us Lost Boys? We’d be more than happy to have you around.” Peter Pan winks. _Winks._

 

Neil looks mildly disgusted, first, and then self-conscious. He folds his arms and uses his hands to cover what little of his scars he can. Andrew does not like Twinklord McDisney at all, and he really doesn’t like pretty boys calling out or flirting with his _not-boyfriend_.

 

There is a family standing directly in front of them, waiting for their turn with Peter Pan. _Oops._

 

“If you say another word to him, I will string you up by your balls from the rafters in _It’s a Small World._ You will go insane from the ever-looping lyrics. Once you are begging for the sweet, gentle release of death, I will cut you down, and then you will fall into the water and snap your spinal column in half over the tracks.”

 

Poor Peter Pan. He pales and his smile falters just for a moment before he looks to the children. “Well, I’ve got to go back to Neverland and find Tink!” He weakly manages the Lost Boys’ shout and scampers off.

 

Andrew whispers a _yes or no_ before he takes Neil’s hand. Neil is still blushing. Whether it’s from the flirting or the talk of his scars, Andrew doesn’t know. He quickly looks around to make sure no one is watching before pressing a kiss to the burn scars under Neil’s eye. That makes Neil blush even harder.

 

“ _Andrew—”_

 

“Shut the fuck up. I know what you are thinking, so _stop it._ You do not think less of me for my scars. I do not think less of you for yours. I know you don’t like it when people mention them, but he obviously found them attractive.” He has to grit his teeth to get the next bit out. “ _You know how I feel about them._ ” He hates that Neil can’t even see how beautiful he is. Andrew knows why, though—Some days, Neil only sees his father staring back at him. Those days, he asks Andrew to fix his hair, because he can’t bring himself to look in the mirror. “I know that in the end, my opinion won’t change anything. Your scars will always serve as a reminder of what you’ve been through in one capacity or another, but for us, they are one truth in a chain of many. When you see them and want to shed your skin, I want you to look at them again and see what you gave me. I want you to see what you gave yourself. Is that clear, Neil?”

 

Neil closes his eyes and exhales slowly. After a moment, he nods and squeezes Andrew’s hand. “Thanks,” he mumbles. He knows that Andrew loves his scars. Andrew helps Neil massage them at least twice a week. When they take their time in bed, Andrew kisses every scar in his reach. If Andrew is having a bad day, he traces over Neil’s scars and Neil recounts (or makes up) their stories. Neil is not what he has with Andrew, but what he has with Andrew _helps._ It’s easy to lose sight of that when his thoughts get too loud.

 

Comfortable silence falls on them for the last few minutes they have in line. Once they board their ship to Neverland, they fly through the scenes of the film. Andrew decides that Wendy is an idiot. Who would believe a flying boy in leggings without question? How gendered could you possibly make a children’s movie? They point at the ancient sets covered in blacklight paint and play “tag yourself” with the different characters around them. Riko is lovingly tagged as Captain Hook with Ichirou, Neil, and Andrew sharing the role of the crocodile.

 

“Well, that was boring as fuck,” Neil says once they step off their boat. A mother nearby covers her child’s ears. _Smart woman_.

 

The _Monsters, Inc. Laugh Floor_ show starts soon, so Neil drags Andrew there next. It is inevitable that all the jokes will be horrible, but Neil would be a fake _Monsters, Inc._ fan if he didn’t go to the one attraction dedicated to it. Naturally, they get a front row seat, and halfway through the show, Neil is put on the spot by Marty Wazowski, Mike Wazowski’s nephew. _Great._

 

“Hey, Buddy! Yeah, you, with the jorts on. You got style, Brother. Anyway—A skeleton walks into a bar. What does he order?”

 

Neil’s heard this one before from Nicky. He’s about to show this monster the fuck up. “A beer and a mop.”

 

“WOAH, HEY! Let’s say he orders some _juice_ and a mop, Pal. Family show,” the monster winks. “Cute _and_ funny, isn’t he, folks?” The crowd laughs and claps for him. Andrew looks like he is trying to figure out how he can off himself using his shoelaces and a plastic cup.

 

“Come on, I’m _funny,_ ” Neil bumps Andrew’s shoulder.

 

“And God is real,” Andrew rolls his eyes.

 

After the show, Neil takes Andrew to get ice creams instead of lunch. They swap bites of frozen lemonade and ice cream sandwich on their walk to Frontierland. The lines for _Splash Mountain_ and _Big Thunder Mountain Railroad_ are predictably long, so they use their _FastPasses_ for those. When Andrew isn’t looking, Neil scans his wristband to save the picture from _Splash Mountain._  Andrew looks mildly alarmed in it and it’s quite possibly the funniest thing Neil has ever seen. Before they cut across Liberty Square to _The Haunted Mansion_ , Andrew buys a giant fucking turkey leg _that is probably the length of his arm_ from one of the street vendors. Neil snaps a photo of Andrew holding it and sends it to the group Snapchat the Foxes have. _“When the leggy thiccer than you are.”_

 

Neil still doesn’t really understand memes yet, but the Foxes forgive him. He does have terminal dumb bitch disease, after all.

 

 _The Haunted Mansion_ turns out to be Neil’s favorite ride so far. There are lots of optical illusions at play, and as a Mathematics major with a concentration in Applied Mathematics, Neil has found a passion in Optical Physics.

 

_\-- Yeah, I just said that he has terminal dumb bitch disease and now I’m mentioning Physics. I know. He’s book smart. He may be able to worm his way out of the worst situations. When it comes to understanding anything else, though, he is a certified dumbass, and we all know this. --_

 

While Neil searches for the projection systems to try and figure them out, the ride breaks down, and then he’s stuck tilting backward on at least a 60° incline in a two-person cart.

 

No one can see them from this angle. How interesting.

 

They make out in a broken down ride at Disney World, because why wouldn’t they do that.

 

Once the ride stops stalling in the room with the dancing ghosts, they have to peel themselves apart, but Neil steals more kisses in the darker bits of the cemetery. After the ride ends, they seek reprieve from the heat in the _Hall of Presidents._ Neil falls asleep on Andrew’s shoulder for the first half _because wow what the fuck is this and why did they think it was a good idea to come in here,_ and during the second half when Donald Trump is revealed, they quietly boo his Oompa-Loompa reminiscent form. They are in no way patriotic and don’t like to align themselves with politics, but they _do_ know that Donald Trump is a bitch.

 

It killed time, at least, and brought them closer to dinner. They use the remainder of their time to take another spin on _Space Mountain_ and buy shitty tee shirts. Andrew has made reservations for dinner tonight at _Be Our Guest_ ~~because Neil has an affinity for French cuisine~~ because he wants something more refined than waffles or turkey legs.

 

\---

 

“Okay, but listen. Belle is probably a furry.”

 

“Andrew— _Andrew_ , no! She fell in love with Beast for his personality—”

 

“Neil. He had claws. And fangs. He was hairy. She danced with a disgusting boar-bear-buffalo man and then cried over his dead body. I think in the live action movie they gave him abs. He probably had a bulge, like—If she isn’t a furry, she’s on thin fucking ice, you know?”

 

“I’m not listening! I’m not—”

 

“You can’t ignore the truth, Josten. Belle has a thing for anthropomorphic creatures. Listen. She fell in love with him before she knew he would turn back into a human. She fell in love with Beast, not the Prince.”

 

“But he’s the same on the inside no matter what form he takes! He—”

 

“That’s what Disney wants you to think. It’s furry propaganda, Neil.”

 

“I think I’m going to be sick. I have tears in my eyes.”

 

“Eat your _poulet rouge_. Digest the truth.” Andrew cuts up his filet into symmetrical cubes and scoops each one through his mound of mashed potatoes.

 

Neil is silent for a moment before the next horrible thought hits him. “People have made _Beauty and the Beast_ pornos, haven’t they?”

 

“The world is a horrific place, Neil.”

 

“It’s not the world that’s horrific. Okay, well, natural disasters are a thing. But. It’s the furries in it,” Neil halfway assents.

 

Andrew points his fork at Neil as if to say _you’ve finally got it_ before ending that conversation. He’s pretty sure the table next to theirs caught on to their subject matter a few of Neil’s noises of disgust ago. “So, tonight. We’re going to see the fireworks?”

 

“Yeah, if you want. I thought it would be nice. Tinker Bell flies from the top of the castle to the tip of the spires on _Space Mountain._  It’s one of those things that you _have to do_ while you’re at Disney. Tomorrow I thought we could go to Hollywood Studios so you can be the _Star Wars_ bitch that you are.”

 

Andrew gently steps on Neil’s toe under the table. _Andrew is not a nerd. He just enjoys the_ Star Wars _franchise, even if the CGI in the early films is an atrocity in the eyes of God. He may or may not have had the world’s biggest crush on Luke Skywalker as a child. Luke Skywalker may or may not have been the deciding factor in his sexuality. It’s casual. It’s not a big deal, you know? It’s—_

 

“Andrew, are you listening to me?” Neil raises an eyebrow. “Luke Skywalker fever dream?”

 

“I’m going to attach you to the rig for the finale of the fireworks show so that you’re propelled into the sky and explode above the patrons of the Disney parks.”

 

“Have fun dancing in my blood-rain. I hope my heart slaps against the pavement at your feet.”

 

“I’ll put it in a jar. _Here lies the remains of Neil Abram Josten. Let this be an example to all who dare cross Andrew Joseph Minyard._ ”

 

“Oh, that’s hot. Didn’t know you were into preserving specimens.”

 

“Gotta know how to properly handle formaldehyde for several of my murder schemes.”

 

“Mm. You haven’t been subtle a day in your life. You know the proper way to kill someone is to slowly poison them over a long period of time. Ridiculously hard to trace that back to the murderer, unless they’re sloppy.”

 

“If I’m going to kill someone, I want them to know that they’re going to die. I’m not going to worry about self-preservation in lieu of justice. You know that.”

 

“I do,” Neil grins. “It’s one of many things I like about you. You aren’t afraid to put people in their place.”

 

Andrew raises an eyebrow. _Interest = Piqued._ “What other things do you like about me?”

 

“Truth for truth. That’s the only way I’ll answer.”

 

“I’m dating the world’s biggest fucking brat.”

 

“So we’re dating now, are we?”

 

“Choke.”

 

“What happened to putting people in their place? Can’t put that into practice with me?”

 

“317%.”

 

Neil winks at him for the second time that day.

Andrew _accidentally_ flicks mashed potatoes at Neil’s nose.

 

\---

 

They find a place in the grass at the edge of the main square to sit and watch the fireworks that night. Medleys of Disney songs play alongside inspirational anecdotes to match the projections of the famous movie scenes that flicker across the castle. Neil is holding Andrew’s hand. The breeze off the lake is just cool enough to give Neil an excuse to huddle a little closer. Andrew feels warm. _And it isn’t the body heat._ He rests his head on Neil’s shoulder and yawns. It’s been a long day under the sun and around too many people. The bed back at their villa calls to him, but when he looks up at Neil, he realizes that the only place he wants to be is at Neil’s side. The colors from show dance across Neil’s features and cast interesting shadows over his skin. When the fireworks start to pop up near the end, Neil looks down at Andrew and meets his gaze.

 

“Staring.”

 

“Yeah,” Andrew admits.

 

“Why?” A tiny smile pulls at the corner of Neil’s lip.

 

Andrew can’t find the right words. “Just...This.”

 

“Are you happy, Andrew?” Neil asks. It’s sudden, but Andrew isn’t surprised, somehow.

 

“Are you happy, Neil?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“Then I am, too.”

 

The sounds of the last round of fireworks are deafening. Andrew covers Neil’s ears and pulls him into a kiss. They _kiss and kiss and kiss_ until the bass stops rattling the speakers and the smell of gunpowder dissipates.

 

\---

 

That night, they play a few rounds of their game.

Andrew likes Neil’s hands. Neil likes Andrew’s shoulders.

Andrew likes Neil’s voice. Neil likes Andrew’s lips.

Andrew likes Neil’s cleverness. Neil likes Andrew’s loyalty.

They go back and forth for a while with the help of the Johnnie Walker Blue.

 

 _The_ Laugh Floor _was hell,_ Andrew thinks, _but this might be heaven._

 _Even if Peter Pan flirted with_ ~~_his boyfriend_ ~~ _Neil._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> andrew makes a joke here about not believing in God. religion is a fantastic thing for some people and i am NOT belittling anyone's beliefs. also, yeah, i addressed Trump. ;-) sorry bout it
> 
> if you wanna say hey on tumblr i'm @reaching-my-summit
> 
> get ready for more disney bullshit. one chapter per park from now on, and maybe even a throwdown at universal bc i think we all know that andrew is a harry potter stan. thank you all for continuing to read this nonsense and for leaving such great comments!
> 
> LET ANDRIEL BE SOFT 2K18


	6. falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys go to hollywood studios.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for discussions of medication and effects of mental health issues, namely anxiety and PTSD.

“How much longer is the wait?” Neil huffs. He leans back against the wall and fans himself with his map of Hollywood Studios.

 

“The start of the line said 50 minutes.” Andrew closes Instagram after commenting _dumbass_ on Neil’s photo with Stitch and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

 

“And how long has it been?”

 

“Twenty.”

 

“God, why is everything so hard?” Neil groans and turns to press his forehead to the wall. Just then, the line moves forward significantly. Resisting the urge to sit down on the red velvet ropes that line the pathway for the _Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster_ is the most difficult thing Neil has ever done. _That’s an extreme exaggeration._ _Whatever._

 

Neil slouches against the entryway and looks to the screens that are meant to display “posters” on the walls. They’re constantly changing to feature different names, genres, and colors. It’s assumed that they’re random until Neil sees his own name grace an advertisement for a country music hall performance. _Coincidence,_ Neil thinks, though his instinct disagrees. To calm himself down, he averts his stare to the opposite wall, but Andrew’s name is on a flyer for a pop concert.

 

For someone who spent nearly ten years of his life being tracked down by his murderous father, this is not encouraging. It is the opposite of encouraging.

 

Andrew sees Neil’s eyes flick over the railing outside. _How hard would it be to take that fall?_ “Neil.”

 

“Our names. They’re on the screens,” Neil whispers. He’s digging his nails into his palms.

 

Andrew checks to see if that is the case, and it is. It’s unsettling but just meant to make the ride that much more immersive. “Neil and Andrew are common names,” he shrugs.

 

“Yeah, but _they know where I am,_ Andrew―”

 

“Who? Who knows where you are?”

 

“I don’t―Andrew, I don’t know, but―”

 

“Neil.”

 

Neil looks royally pissed off. Neil _is_ royally pissed off. How can Andrew not care that Disney is tracking their every move? How many hidden sensors are there? What is written in the fucking Terms and Conditions? “What, Andrew?” he spits.

 

Andrew taps Neil’s elbow with two fingers. “You’re hurting yourself. Stop it.”

 

“How does this not fucking bother you? It’s freakish, I―” _Where could he go that wouldn’t attract attention? There are service roads all around. It wouldn’t be that hard to slip out of a gate, find an emergency exit…_

 

“Neil. No one is looking for us. It’s just to make this a more personalized experience for idiots who give a shit about things like that.” Andrew carefully steps behind Neil and takes a bottle of water out of the side pocket of his backpack. “Drink. Did you take your medicine at lunch?”

 

Neil shakes his head. “Didn’t want to.”

 

“You’re taking it now,” Andrew says. It isn’t up for debate.

 

“Andrew―”

 

“Do not argue with me about your health. I know you don’t like to take it, but you need to. If your leg was broken, you would wear a cast. If you had an arrhythmia, you would take the pills. If you had cancer, you would undergo treatment. You have anxiety. Take your medicine.”

 

“Fine,” Neil sighs. He takes the capsule Andrew shakes into his hand and swallows it with the rest of his water. He knows that he’s been restless today and that he probably needs it. Andrew doesn’t like to hear apologies, so he reaches out to brush his hand against Andrew’s, and Andrew wraps his little finger around Neil’s in acknowledgment.

 

The rest of the wait is punctuated with guitar riffs, backstage passes, and chain-link fences. _It sort of feels like going to the doctor. There’s a lot of waiting in different rooms before you get to the actual event._ Once the members of Aerosmith brief them on the concept of the ride and leave the recording studio, they’re sent out to squeeze into the main queue.

 

Things start to get tense.

 

Not many children are around for this ride since it’s one of the more extreme roller coasters that Disney has. _The big tagline is that it goes from 0 to 60 miles per hour in two seconds._ Most of the people are crowding each other too tightly, and since the majority of these guests are adults, many “bros” (douchebags) can be found in the lines. Andrew and Neil are poised to get the front seats on the next car, so the wait will have been worth suffering the incessant babbling about “hot girls,” _Call of Duty_ , and other meaningless tripe.

 

When Andrew steps forward to slide into the first stall for the seats, someone grips his arm from behind to hold him back.

 

Someone finds himself crumpled into a heap a second later.

 

“Dude, what the _fuck?_ ” The asshole croaks. He wraps both arms around his own torso.

 

“You touched me. I don’t like to be touched,” Andrew says, like it’s that simple. Maybe it is. It should be, in his opinion. “You tried to cut in front of us.”

 

He points his finger at Andrew and tries to catch his breath. “Listen, _Shortie_ ―”

 

Andrew wraps his fingers around the man’s arm and twists. “Every word you say adds a second to how long I will keep you in this hold. I suggest you keep it brief.”

 

If Neil looks amused, it’s because he is.

 

“You―Fucking, don’t stand there smirking, get him off me!”

 

Neil shrugs. “That’s ten seconds. Want me to count for you?”

 

“Gentleman, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the ride and go back to the start of the line. All of you,” the attendant says over the microphone. “If you refuse to leave, you will be escorted out by force.”

 

Andrew keeps the asshole in the hold for ten seconds anyway. “On our way out,” he calls over his shoulder. Neil walks behind him as a buffer until they make it out of the building.

 

“We could try the single rider line if you’d still like to go. It should move faster,” Neil shrugs.

 

They do try the single rider line. They’re in the back row this time, but that’s okay.

 

\---

 

The _Sci-Fi Dine-In Theater_ restaurant puts a giant plastic ice cube in every soda that glows with the colors of the rainbow in an ever-looping gradient. Why this is necessary, Neil doesn’t know, but he enjoys stabbing his straw around to mess with the rave adrift in his Coke Zero. Booths here are shaped like different muscle cars and face towards a giant screen where short films and old advertisements are projected. Beside Andrew and Neil’s lavender Cadillac is a small speaker that relays the sound from the projections, just like the drive-ins of the mid-century.

 

“Maybe we should paint the Maserati this color,” Neil teases.

 

“If you so much as breathe on its paint, I will gut you.”

 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like that car more than you like me.” In a bold streak, Neil wraps his arm around Andrew’s shoulders.

 

Andrew makes no move to acknowledge the fact that Neil has done this and takes a sip of his milkshake. “Well, I like the Maserati and I hate you, so I don’t think you know any better.”

 

“Right,” Neil leans in closer to Andrew’s ear. “But that isn’t what you said last night.”

 

“Oh, last night? I was drunk,” Andrew shrugs. He’s smirking, of course, because he remembers every single thing that was said last night. _His shoulders, his lips, his loyalty, his memory, his brand of comfort, his solidity, his stir-fry. How determined he looks when he shuts down the goal, how deep his real laugh is. His smile._ Neil sees all of Andrew. _That’s enough._

 

“Let me see if I can refresh your eidetic memory. My hands, my voice, my cleverness, my eyes, the softness of my hair, _pretty sure_ there was something about my ass in there...What else? My brownies, my bastard personality, my―”

 

Andrew clamps his hand down over Neil’s mouth, because he knows what comes next, and it’s rather explicit. “We are around children.”

 

Neil just grins. “You like me.”

 

“I hate you,” Andrew repeats.

 

“But that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t―”

 

Andrew’s presses his steak knife up against Neil’s side.

 

Despite his better judgment, Neil shoves his hand into the bear trap. “―Blow me.”

 

Andrew, just to prove that he wasn’t bluffing, lightly cuts Neil. Just barely. It won’t even bleed. Neil’s pupils dilate when he realizes that Andrew actually cut him, even if it's barely a scratch. For a second, Neil doesn’t say anything, just _stares_ , and Andrew is paralyzed by the thought that may have crossed a line.

 

“Neil, are you―”

 

“So you won’t even fully stab me? Pussy won’t. _Pussy won’t_ stab me. I dare you to do it.”

 

“Do you get off on this shit, Josten?” Andrew grumbles, completely incredulous. He’s also annoyed that Neil would attempt to use the power of  _pussy won’t_ against him.

 

“Knife kink? I...” Neil trails off when some not-so-fun thoughts say _hello, we heard you had PTSD_ ― _how’s that going, by the way?_ Not his favorite thing to reminisce about. _Handcuffs keep him attached to the bed. A psychopathic asshole cuts him up. Blood on the sheets, blood in his eyes. He still isn't sure what's real and what isn't. What happened when he was under? How many times did he pass out?_ Andrew notices the far-off look in Neil’s eyes and reaches to cup the back of Neil’s neck with his hand.

 

_Ground yourself in the room. Count five things. One: the rainbow ice cube in my soda. Two: the cheese crusted onto my plate. Three: Andrew’s sunglasses on top of his head. Four: the glow-in-the-dark stars on the wall. Five: the retro hot dog ad on the projector. Okay._

 

Before, he would shove every spike of panic through his chest away until he could be alone and promptly have a nervous breakdown when he was. Sometimes, he couldn’t even manage that, and he would shut down in front of people or dissociate entirely. Things were slowly getting better. Sometimes, he couldn’t pull himself out of his own mind and neither could Andrew, but today, he managed, and today was what mattered. Bee says that any progress is progress, and Neil believes that because he’s seen it with Andrew.

 

Andrew doesn’t say that he’s sorry, but Neil sees sensitivity written all over his face. “I’m fine, Andrew.”

 

The sensitivity is now replaced with anger.

 

“I’m _good._ Not a lie. I’m okay. Promise.” Neil places his hand on top of Andrew’s where it rests on the back of his neck. “Knife kink, no. Unwavering trust kink? Yeah, actually.” When he smiles, a tinge of blush floods his cheeks. “I know you will never purposefully do anything that I can’t handle. If by accident, I will tell you to stop, and you will.”

 

Andrew nods because Neil is right. “Everything between us will always be a choice.”

 

They go back to their food and plan the rest of their day.

 

\---

 

Neil knows jack shit about _Star Wars_ , so he just allows Andrew to drag him along. Andrew tells him about the Empire and the Rebels and tries to give him a basis on the characters and the relationships they have with one another. Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker’s dad. There’s a red guy named Darth Maul. There’s some green Stormtrooper who is a bounty hunter and everyone likes him for no reason. He’s named after bubble tea and cheese or something. _Boba Feta?_ There’s this one aardvark-looking-thing named Jar Jar Binks and a pile of lard named Jabba the Hutt. They’re equally disgusting. The most popular guy here is named Kylo Ren. Andrew describes him as shitty sci-fi Riko, and that’s really all Neil needs to hear.

 

They decide to go on _Star Tours_. Inside, guests board a _Starspeeder 1000_ and a robot takes them to some place called _Batuu._ Neil doesn’t understand how people like this whole _Star Wars_ thing. It seems so big and confusing, but Andrew likes it, and listening to Andrew explain things without the usual bored look on his face makes the dormant butterflies in Neil’s stomach wake up and start fluttering about again.

 

On a dare from Neil, Andrew takes a picture with Chewbacca while doing the [_vape naysh_](https://goo.gl/images/LWBwkw) pose. Neil doesn’t think he’s ever ~~loved~~ loathed Andrew more than he does at this moment.

 

The _Twilight Zone Tower of Terror_ is the recipient of their _FastPass_ for the day. Once they’re buckled into the creepy-ass elevator car and sent on their way by the bellhop from the creepy-ass boiler room, Andrew finally gets nervous. He expects to be dropped immediately since the whole schtick is that this is a _drop tower ride,_ so he tenses up only to realize that they have to be lifted first. _Right._

 

Neil doesn’t comment, but he smirks over at Andrew, who flips him off in return.

Andrew starts to think that riding a drop tower to prove something to himself might have been a bad idea. He can only think about the fall. _Thirteen stories._

 

The elevator parades them through hallways filled with ghosts and flickering light bulbs. _Oh, scary._ Soon, the 5th dimension surrounds them in a seemingly endless field of stars. How long does it take to get to the falling part? He’s tired of gritting his teeth.

 

When the car slots itself up against a wall, his question is answered. The falling part is now.

 

He’s out of his seat before he can think. Not entirely out of it, just _above_ it in a way that he is not okay with. He knows the science. _He’s in freefall. The elevator car is falling faster than he is, so in his current reference frame, he feels weightless. That’s why his stomach has taken up residence in his throat._ Andrew does not scream, but he audibly says “ _Fuck,_ ” which might as well be a blood-curdling screech, because that’s what he thinks would best express how he is currently feeling. 

 

Bad. Bad is how he’s currently feeling.

 

Neil places his hand palm-up in front of Andrew. Andrew takes it instantly and probably squeezes it like he’s in the middle of labor. He doesn’t know. What he does know is that the _Tower of Terror_ drops you however many times it feels like dropping you because of some stupid algorithm. He also knows that there is something underneath him pulling him down. It isn’t all gravity, so that’s reassuring, but he’s still fucking _falling_. He looks over to Neil.

 

Neil, who is smiling and bright. Neil is the sun. He's life-giving and life-taking. Volatile, unpredictable, and impossible. Neil is the sun and Andrew is a sunflower, ever turning Neil’s way to stare. Under Neil, he thrives. With Neil, he lives. When the elevator doors open to reveal the outside world from the height of their drop, Andrew doesn’t even look. He can’t.

 

Very fitting for Andrew’s thoughts to wax poetic during a _fight or flight_ shitshow.

Falling for Neil is ongoing. At least after a few more drops, this elevator will _stop._

 

After the last drop, Andrew calmly unbuckles his seat belt and stands. He shoves his hands into his pockets to keep them from shaking. “Not a word.”

 

Neil’s grin hasn’t faltered since the ride began. “Let’s go back to the resort. It’s been a fucking day.”

 

\---

 

Andrew goes straight back to their villa while Neil scours the premises for dinner. He settles on going to a cafe in the main building and ordering a few different sushi rolls and appetizers to-go. While he waits for their food, he meanders through a gift shop. The smell of sweets, the rush of the water feature in the hall, and the _magic of Disney_ must do something to possess him because he buys Andrew a Stitch plush toy. It’s velvety to the touch and _very cute_. Stitch is smiling with both sets of arms and his antennae out. Neil _secretly hopes_ that Andrew might find it fitting to hold when they won’t be able to share the same bed for a while.

 

His phone buzzes in his pocket to signal that their food is ready. Before he goes to retrieve it, he scrolls through a few of his other messages.

 

 **Nicky:** so mad you’re at disney!!!!!!!! why wasn’t i invited!!!!!!!!

 **Dan:** Hope you and your boy are having fun. Matt and the baby say hello!

 **Wymack:** bring me back a snow globe or i’m signing you up for a marathon, josten

 **Kevin:** Tell Andrew that he NEEDS to be sticking to his diet plan. I think he blocked me.

 

Neil only responds to Kevin.

 

 **Neil:** Get the racquet out of your ass long enough to fuck off. You’ll be unblocked at the end of the week.

 

\---

 

Andrew’s halfway through the first roll when Neil gets the courage to hand him the bag.

 

“The fuck is this?” Andrew asks through a mouthful of eel and avocado.

 

Neil pulls out the plushy and sets it in front of Andrew. “It’s Stitch.”

 

“Why did you buy a children’s toy?"

 

“I thought it might be nice,” Neil sighs. “For you to have when we aren’t with each other.”

 

Andrew sets his chopsticks down and takes Stitch to run his fingers over the soft ‘fur.’ Not the same as Neil’s hair, obviously. Not as warm as Neil. Not as _Neil_ as Neil. This is from Neil, though. Maybe that should be enough.

 

“Wait, hold on.”

 

Andrew raises an eyebrow.

 

Neil takes Stitch back and kisses him on the nose. “Now he’s blessed by me, just for you.”

 

A boy who has killed countless people should not be so adorable.

 

\---

 

“It’s getting late,” Andrew hums, replacing the lid on a pint of ice cream. He’s been lying between Neil’s legs on the couch for the better part of almost four hours, just reading _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ out loud to Neil. They’ve been working through the books. Andrew has always liked them and Neil never had the chance to.

 

“I got us tickets to Universal, too,” Neil says as he gently pulls on a few of Andrew’s curls to make them bounce. “To the _Wizarding World of Harry Potter_.”

 

Andrew hates that Neil is thoughtful. Andrew hates that Neil is so good to him. Andrew _hates_ Neil. Andrew _loathes_ Neil. Andrew  ~~ _loves_~~ Neil.

 

So, Andrew stands up to leave.

 

“Where are you going?” Neil frowns.

 

“Getting your laptop. We have to take a Sorting Hat quiz so that you’ll know what House you’re in by tomorrow.”

 

Andrew also has to smile, so he left to do that, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like. how's everyone feeling about the boys going to universal let me know pls
> 
> also SORRY THAT THIS WAS KINDA ANGSTY BUT LIKE... WE NEEDED A BREAK FROM PURE FLUFF TBH
> 
> thanks for reading, as always! <3 please comment and leave kudos or whatever if you're so inclined


	7. you're a wizard, andrew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew and neil go to the wizarding world of harry potter, because when in orlando...  
> andrew has lots of emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for non-detailed references to andrew's childhood (aka not-nice foster fathers and brothers). song referenced below is “like real people do” by hozier.

Neil takes the hood of his Slytherin robe and pulls it up over his head as he walks into _Ollivander’s_ for the wand ceremony. Andrew pushes up the sleeves of his Hufflepuff sweater and crosses his arms.  _Andrew wishes he were a wizard. He always has. That would make things a hell of a lot easier. Kevin won’t shut up? Murder at the flick of his wrist. Nicky won’t shut up? Murder at the flick of his wrist. Neil won’t stop being adorable? Murder. At the flick of his fucking wrist._

 

“You there, in the Hufflepuff garb.” A crotchety old wizard points at Andrew.

 

Andrew’s eyes widen just barely. “Me?”

 

“Yes, you, boy. Already confident in where the Sorting Hat will place you before you even get your wand and pop off to Hogwarts, are you?” The wizard strokes his beard thoughtfully. _Andrew assumes he’s meant to be Ollivander, but he looks more like Dumbledore._

 

“Yeah,” Andrew nods. “Perseverance, dedication, and loyalty.”

 

The wizard looks pleased by his answer. “You have fire in you, boy. Strong magic in your veins.”

 

Andrew is filled with something. _Wonder, maybe?_

 

**_\----- That day at school, his class went to the library. He had finished all his other books and returned them to the bin. The librarian smiled at him and asked him how he read all of them so fast. He said that he liked knowing things. To a boy who was unsure of almost everything in his own life, books were a welcome reprieve. She smiled at him and took him back into the office to hand him a special book._ **

 

**_“Harry Potter is a boy who’s quite a lot like you, Andrew. He likes knowing things, too. Will you read this for me?”_ **

 

**_He wanted the librarian to be his mother. She was nice and gave him books. “Yes.”_ **

 

**_He sat in the corner of another bedroom in another house with another set of parents. He didn’t like these ones much, but they were better than the ones from first grade. That dad wouldn’t listen and he wouldn’t let Andrew tell the truth. That dad didn’t have any manners. He wouldn’t stop hurting Andrew even when Andrew asked nicely. He doesn’t want to think about mean dads today, though. He wants to read a new book._ **

 

**_Harry Potter is a lot like Andrew. He lives with people that aren’t very good to him. He gets all the hand-me-down toys and clothes. Andrew feels bad for him and wants to be his friend. He thinks they’d get along, and they could share their old toys. Maybe Harry would have a model car that Andrew didn’t._ **

 

**_Harry didn’t have more action figures and toy cars, but he had magic. Andrew wanted magic. He wanted to leave his family behind. He wanted to go to a school where he could make new friends, go on adventures, and learn things that weren’t boring. Most importantly, he wanted to hurt mean people that hurt others, just like Harry did. When he was reading, he felt like he was doing just that. He wished he were 11 already. Then his Hogwarts letter would finally come._ **

 

**_It never did. Maybe he could be a squib, instead... -----_ **

 

“I should hope so. Thank you,” Andrew nods. _He’s getting better at thanking people. Well, only in extreme cases. You really can’t_ not _thank a wizard for giving you a wand._

 

“Don’t thank me,” the wizard shakes his head. “It’s the magic inside you. The wands know and they tell me who the strongest witch or wizard in the room is.” He steps up onto a ladder to pull a box off the top shelf. “Cherry wood. Dragon heartstring core. Eight inches...Slightly springy. Try this one out.”

 

Andrew feels a little ridiculous, but he assents. He takes the wand from the man and gives it a flick. Papers from one of the shelves immediately scatter to the floor.

 

“Okay, maybe not that one.” The wandmaker doges the mess and hands him another box. “Ebony wood this time, same core. A bit shorter and sturdier. Give it a swish.”

 

This time, the ladder underneath the shopkeeper’s feet lurches to the right to leave him hanging onto the shelves. Andrew smirks and looks down at the wand in his hand. Maybe not the right wand, but this one has a sense of humor.

 

The man drops to the floor after pulling another box from the shelf. “Alright. This one...This one. Phoenix feather core. You spoke of loyalty. You’ll have to prove that to this wand,” the wizard smiles. _Phoenix feather wands are notoriously picky, after all._

 

Andrew gives this wand a swish and gold sparks rain down around him. It’s like a childhood dream come true. _Disney, eat your heart out!_

 

“Ah,” the wandmaker nods. “Perfect. The wand chooses the wizard, everyone!”

 

The small crowd in the shop claps and disperses after a moment to browse the shop themselves. Andrew is allowed to keep the wand and its box, free of charge. He goes back to Neil’s side and slips the wand box into Neil’s backpack.

 

Neil channels Rubeus Hagrid’s gravelly voice. “You’re a wizard, Andrew.”

 

“I’m not finishing off that reference,” Andrew mumbles. He needs to make a call. The combination of a rather pathetic childhood flashback and quite a bit of public attention has him feeling on edge. His fingers itch for a cigarette for the first time in a long time. “Buy me Butterbeer.”

 

“And what if I say no?” Neil leads Andrew out of the shop and out to _The Three Broomsticks_ nonetheless.

 

“Then I want a divorce. I am taking the children, the house, and the car.” Andrew reaches into Neil’s pocket and pulls out his wallet. He leaves Neil in the line for the restaurant and goes to buy Butterbeer for the two of them.

 

Andrew is feeling something new on top of everything that is currently making him buzz. That won’t do. He pulls his phone out and calls Bee.

 

 _Ring. Ring._ “Andrew? Is this an emergency?”

 

“Bee. What’s it called when you feel like you’re...Relieved, and sort of happy, but tired?”

 

Bee is silent for a moment. “In what sense?”

 

“I would read the _Harry Potter_ series as a child and it would help me escape, sometimes,” Andrew explained. “I got picked at Ollivander’s for the wand ceremony. It was something I always wanted to have. It felt nice in the moment, but now I am feeling...A lot.”

 

“I think you’re feeling overwhelmed in a non-negative way,” Bee hums. “You’re better at being able to associate things you like with better and better memories. That’s bound to be a lot to process."

 

“Yeah,” Andrew agrees. “It is. I'm trying Butterbeer for the first time with the Junkie,” he whispers. "I wanted that, too." He is allowed to _want._ “What Hogwarts house are you in?”  _i.e., there aren't any glass figurines about, and I want to get you a present but I'm too much of a cool-kid to say that._

 

“Ravenclaw,” Bee chuckles. “Thank you, Andrew. Have a good rest of your vacation. Call me if you need anything else.”

 

“You know I will. Bye, Bee.”

 

There’s a song that Neil likes by this artist who calls himself _Hozier._ It’s about someone who finds someone else. Maybe the people find each other, Andrew doesn’t really know. What matters is that when they're together, they feel real. He looks over to the line where Neil waits and Neil gives him a little wave.

 

Andrew was a lost boy when he found Harry Potter.

 

Perhaps it’s time to allow himself to become a _found_ man.

 

\---

 

“Sirius Black was fucking robbed,” Andrew says through a mouthful of chicken. He points up to a ‘WANTED’ poster of the man from the _Prisoner of Azkaban._ “He did not even die. He got pushed beyond the veil. He was in prison for twelve years even though he was innocent. As soon as he dies, people start thinking he was queer and with Lupin, and then J.K. pairs Lupin off with Tonks to get shit to die down.”

 

Neil snorts. “You know, for _Harry Potter_ to be so good, J.K. Rowling is a menace. It’s like she doesn’t even know what she wrote. She gave Draco a redemption arc and then said he was a little bitch. Dumbledore is a cucklord and he’s treated like a god. Severus Snape is seen as brave. Ginny marries Harry. After all of that bullshit with Harry, she leaves another child orphaned. What is all of that?”

 

Andrew raises his Butterbeer to that and takes a swig. “Happens in the books, too. It's bullshit, but she can still capitalize on my entertainment."

 

“There is no ethical consumption under capitalism,” Neil says, gesturing to the lavish recreation of _The Three Broomsticks_ around them.

 

Andrew hums in agreement and finishes off his drink. “Why don’t we let her further capitalize on us by getting in line for the ride inside Hogwarts castle?”

 

\---

 

Neil is not a fan of the fact that Universal makes you stow your things away in lockers and attempts to argue with one of the workers before Andrew takes his bag and shoves it into one. He pockets the print-out of the code and pulls Neil back into the line. _There are cameras and guards, Neil. The code is six digits long. No one has access to our things._ Neil sighs and takes Andrew’s hand in his own as they snake through the dungeons of Hogwarts. Several paintings on the wall talk and move about, mostly warning them about taking grand adventures. The queue wraps up ramps and staircases and into halls that house artifacts from the Harry Potter universe. Slytherin has more house points in their hourglass than Hufflepuff by far, and Neil gloats about it until Andrew pinches him.

 

They find themselves in Dumbledore’s office after a while. Fawkes the Phoenix squawks quietly at them from his perch and ruffles his feathers. Andrew thinks Neil is a bit like a phoenix. He has been reborn from excruciating circumstances again and again. Every time he had to adapt, he changed without complaint, because complaining only meant more fire.

Earlier, the wandmaker at the shop had told Andrew that he had to win the loyalty of a wand with a phoenix feather core.

Andrew supposed he had done that with Neil. _A man with a phoenix at his core._ Over the years, he had proven himself worthy of holding Neil upright. He had never once faltered under Neil’s weight. He was the only person who looked at Neil and saw him for what he really was.

Neil was not a normal person. He never would be.

Neil was not a runaway playing the role of a normal person, either.

Neil was, however, a friend. He was a striker for the Palmetto State Foxes. He was a Monster. He was a Math major. He was a fan of classical music. He was an affectionate drunk. He was warmth under the covers and he was soft kisses on the roof on winter nights. Neil was home.

Neil was a man with a phoenix at his core.

 

 _Loyalty._ Neil chose  _yes._ Neil chose _him_. _I_ _t’s always yes with you._

 

“Thank you,” Andrew mumbles.

 

Neil looks thoughtful for a moment. “I want to make you happy. Every day.”

 

Andrew is quiet for a while. They walk into the next room. Projections of Ron, Hermione, and Harry begin to speak to them about the plot of the ride. They’re sneaking out of class by means of broomflight. _More heights. Joy._ Ron fails to properly cast a spell and causes fake snow in the form of soapy fluff to rain down from the ceiling. Neil catches a few blurbs of bubbles on his hands and wipes them on Andrew’s nose.

 

“I know,” Andrew finally answers, and Neil smiles.

 

\---

 

The Hogwarts Express is relatively empty for the evening. Andrew pulls Neil into a compartment and they take their seats. Everything is movie-accurate, from the little lamps on the walls to the patterns on the benches. It makes Andrew feel a bit more relaxed after the nightmare that was _The Forbidden Journey._ It was an amazing ride, yes, but at one point, the ride had stopped when they were upside down. Not so great.

 

“I feel like Remus Lupin,” Neil says, unwrapping a chocolate frog from its box and handing Andrew the trading card. It’s Helga Hufflepuff, of course. “I am covered in scars and eating chocolate on a train.” He breaks off the head and hands the entire body of the frog to Andrew. After a few bites, Neil gives Andrew the rest of the frog’s head, too, which Andrew happily takes.

 

The heat of their bodies and early-summer causes the chocolate to transfer to their skin. Andrew watches as Neil licks the chocolate from his fingers.  _I’m so gay,_ Andrew inwardly groans.

 

“Something bothering you?” Neil asks. His tone, predictably, is mocking.

 

“Beyond the telling,” Andrew rolls his eyes.

 

The doors to their little cabin finally close once everyone has boarded, and it is then that Andrew hikes his leg over Neil’s lap to straddle him. He grabs Neil’s hand by the wrist and holds it so that Neil’s fingers are near his mouth. “Yes or no?”

 

Neil nods a little too excitedly and Andrew takes the end of Neil’s thumb into his mouth. His tongue runs over the skin until it’s clean, and when he allows the digit to fall from his mouth, Neil makes a noise that doesn’t really sound like it should come out of a person. That much makes Andrew smirk. “Are you so easily affected by this?”

 

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to, Asshole,” Neil mumbles. He sort of looks like he’s pouting, which pulls a soft chuckle from Andrew. Andrew likes it when Neil pouts. _Q-u-a-n-t-i-z-e-d._

 

“I like that you like it,” Andrew hums. It seems as though they’re switching up their old banter this afternoon.

 

“Oh, you like things, now? Are you admitting that?” Neil grins.

 

“You see, you should really stop pushing it, because now I will never admit to liking anything ever again.” Andrew kisses him anyway.

 

“You like that,” Neil says against Andrew’s lips. The kiss is immediately deepened in retaliation.

 

“Hm?” Andrew prods, like he doesn’t already know what Neil is going to say.

 

“You like kissing me.” Breaking away from the kiss is a struggle, but Neil wants to make Andrew breathless, so he starts trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, tasting the salt of sweat and smelling the leftover notes of Andrew’s cologne.

 

It takes quite a while for Andrew to formulate a response because as soon as Neil’s lips are on his throat, he short-circuits. It’s very inconvenient. “It’s probably the only perk I get from spending so much fucking time with you,” he manages through gritted teeth.

 

“Can I touch?” Neil asks. He’s still sitting on his hands. He knows that Andrew has been thinking a lot today and is ever aware of those unspoken boundaries, even after having years of having the chance to fall into a routine. Awareness _is_ Neil’s routine, and Andrew is more thankful for that than Neil will ever know.

 

“Above the waist,” Andrew confirms. Neil rests his hands on Andrew’s sides and begins tracing little patterns onto Andrew’s ribs with his fingertips. He is really trying to make Andrew shiver today, which Andrew _t ~~horoughly enjoys~~_ loathes entirely.

 

Neil pulls back to look at Andrew. Andrew tries to look attractive, yeah. He dresses well, has a few well-placed piercings, and he takes good care of his hair. Neil is looking at him like _that,_ though. He reaches up to fix Andrew’s septum ring (it always gets crooked when they kiss) and then cups Andrew’s cheeks in both hands. “Pretty,” he mumbles.

 

“What?” Andrew whispers. Instead of blushing, he pales.

 

“You’re pretty,” Neil repeats himself, louder this time. “Sometimes I think you’re beautiful.”

 

Andrew’s face scrunches up. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Neil’s thumb slides under his eye. “Shut up,” he whispers. It’s weak. People used to call him that. _Pretty._ It wasn’t a compliment, then. It was something else. Andrew has to remind himself that Neil is perfectly content with sitting here and staring at him. He is perfectly content with holding hands and kissing and nothing more. Neil isn’t complimenting Andrew to gain anything. Neil is complimenting Andrew because he wants Andrew to know what he thinks and feels.

 

“Did I say something wrong?” Neil asks. Before he can jerk his hands away, Andrew reaches up to keep them in place.

 

“No,” Andrew shakes his head. “I know that you say it because you mean it.” _Bee’s advice runs through his mind. Clarify and Rectify, Andrew._ “Other people didn’t. I just had to remind myself of that.”

 

“Thank you,” Neil says. Andrew knows that Neil cherishes every truth, every opinion, and every admittance in a moment of weakness. Neil accepts every ugly piece of Andrew’s past and never apologizes on the behalf of Andrew’s abusers. His expression never goes soft. He does not pity Andrew. Neil just silently hates those that have hurt Andrew and they go from there.

 

Andrew didn’t know when he started feeling all of these things for Neil. He didn’t know he was feeling until he couldn’t stop it. Bee says that’s why he channeled all of it into hatred. He hated Neil for making him lose control. He still _does._ Now, though, he might ~~love~~  Neil more than he hates him.

 

His arrangement with Kevin was over now. Kevin had found him something to live for. 

_Neil. Now with Neil. Always with Neil. Forever with Neil._

 

“Take a picture with me once we get to Diagon Alley,” Andrew says. _Something as a reminder of today, even though he has an eidetic memory._

 

\---

 

In the photo, the Gringotts' dragon breathes fire into the air above them. Andrew has an ice cream from Florian Fortescue's in his hand. Neil is smiling.

Andrew is looking at Neil like he is the world.

To Andrew, he is.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello ;) wanted to write from andrew's perspective a lil (;  
> that bitch has feelings yeet let andrew emote 2k18  
> let me know what you think! we have two disney parks left  
> \- animal kingdom  
> \- epcot  
> which one are you guys feeling??


	8. control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's animal kingdom time, lads. the boys have a good day. andrew has a little fan interaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i was gone for a hot minute but a girl's got COLLEGE  
> gets a lil saucy at the end

“It goes backward. It’s also very dark inside.”

 

“I don’t know how I feel about that.” Neil stares at the tip-top of Disney’s _Expedition Everest_ coaster. _Space Mountain_ was okay because it was space, and the darkness there made sense. The _Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster_ was okay because there was also neon everywhere. A pitch-black ride with cold, damp air, high speeds, and an animatronic yeti might be pushing it.

 

“We don’t have to go,” Andrew shrugs. He knows that Neil wants to try and it doesn’t matter to him if they go or not. “It’s your call.”

 

“I spent all morning looking at giraffes, wildebeests, and springboks. Pretty tame,” Neil hums. _Like anything at Disney is tame._ “Let’s get in line. Today’s a good day.”

 

Riding through a wildlife reserve in an open-air vehicle while dangerous creatures meandered closeby was alarming at first. Neil had never seen _any_ animals like that before. Ten years on the run didn’t leave much time to go to the zoo, you see. After he got over the initial shock of seeing a lion sitting a hundred yards away from him (with the help of Andrew humming “Dangerous Animals”), Neil began to seriously pay attention to the animals and their behaviors. He thought that in another life he might have become a zoologist. He was a little too deep into math and exy now, though. Maybe he could get pets or something. _Pets_. Something else he’d never had.

 

_D-a-n-g-e-r-o-u-s a-n-i-m-a-l makes my head piroutte!_

 

It was still strange to think that he had a future. He briefly wonders if his mother would be happy that he didn’t have to run anymore, but he doubts that she’d approve of his choice in company and livelihood. Neil Abram Josten: Future professional athlete surrounded by predominantly queer outcasts with troubled childhoods, currently employed by the Yakuza. He wonders if his mother would care that he had found someone. Would she care that the person he found was a man? And not just any man, at that. Andrew Joseph Minyard: Goalie for the Nashville Sabres, ex-felon, ex-psychopath (drug-induced, but still), ex-addict, murderer, protector, wonderful kisser, ice cream fucker...

 

Neil really has everything going for him, doesn’t he?

 

Today is a good day.

 

The queue for _Everest_ runs through a series of buildings that are meant to be part of a village at the base of Mount Everest. Everything is old and tattered-looking, and the old expedition gear lying about in the general store they walk through reminds Neil of his time in Asia. “I spent time in Nepal, once,” he says, and focuses on the threadbare banners that drape around the walkways. “I was Antonin then, thirteen and supposedly French. There was a shop I used to go to when we needed supplies, and the old woman who ran it always gave me a bowl of _dal-bhat-tarkari_ when I’d come in. It was some of the only hot food I had while I was there.”

 

Andrew leans up against the outside of one of the buildings while the line stalls and crosses his arms. He hated thinking about how often Neil had only eaten crackers or cold cans of beans. Every time Andrew made dinner for him ( _"I accidentally made enough for two"_ ), Neil would eat achingly slowly. In that moment, Andrew realized that Neil had only eaten when he was running because he had to. He never had the chance to savor anything. Now, Neil can, and that makes the anger in Andrew's chest fizzle out. “What’s _dal-bhat-tarkari_?”

 

“It’s this soup with lots of lentils in it. It’s usually on top of rice.” Neil removes a loose penny from his pocket and flicks it into a fountain in the square. An intricately carved yeti sits atop the fountain like it’s hoarding its riches at the base of the _forbidden mountain_. He digs around in his pocket for another penny and holds it up for Andrew. “Make a wish.”

 

Andrew raises an eyebrow. “What should I wish for?”

 

“I don’t know. Only you can know, or else it won’t come true.” He turns Andrew’s palm upward himself and places the coin on it. “Wish.”

 

“I wish that you could go a day without being insufferable.” Andrew takes the coin between his thumb and middle finger anyway and steps up to the edge of the railing. _What to wish for?_  Andrew doesn’t really like wishing, and especially not hoping. They’re childish things. They usually don’t come to fruition, or they’re fucked if they do.

 

_Well, when he was a child, he wished for a brother._

_When he was a preteen, he wished for a family. He got hell._

_When he was a teenager, he wished for a reprieve. He served jail time._

_He got Aaron. Blood, yes. A twin, even. Not what he wished for._

_He got Nicky. Family, yes. Blood, even. Not what he wished for._

_He got medication. An escape, yes. A trip, even. Not. What. He. Wished. For._

 

_He wished for Neil to be a side effect of the drugs._

_He got a pipe dream. Not what he wished for._

 

Aaron started to bring Andrew a cheeseburger back when he went out for food. Aaron could talk about Katelyn and Andrew could talk about Neil. They had talked about Tilda. They played Mario Kart together. Nicky distracted Robin so that Andrew and Neil could have the dorm to themselves sometimes. Nicky made Neil smile when Andrew didn’t know what to do. Nicky paid off the house in Columbia. Nicky made Andrew his best man.

 

Neil is moving in with him. Neil is at Disney World with him. Neil will play Exy with him. Neil will be by his side for the rest of their lives. Andrew takes a chance. He makes another wish.

 

It’s something he never thought he'd have. _Time._

 

Andrew turns around and tosses the coin over his shoulder and into the fountain.

 

_Time with his family. Time with Neil. Time with himself. He used to be a string of ideas and values and trauma. Now he feels like a person._

 

“What did you wish for?” Andrew asks, even though he knows he isn’t supposed to.

 

Neil deflects the question. “Are you superstitious?”

 

“Should I be?”

 

“Yeah. I want my wish to come true. I think you do too,” Neil hums.

 

Andrew has a sneaking suspicion that they wished for the same thing.

 

“Tell me more about Nepal, Junkie.”

 

\---

 

At the top of the mountain, the train tracks end. Gone, ripped out of place by the abominable snowman. A snarl echoes through the cave behind them and something underneath them shifts.

 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Neil breathes, and then they’re plummeting into the abyss. At least the animatronic yeti is very obviously fake. _Disney, step it up._ A sharp jolt to the left sends him lurching forward over the safety bar hard enough to knock the air out of his chest. _So t_ _hat’s why they tell you to keep your head back._ Andrew places a hand on Neil’s stomach and presses him back against the seat, and Neil grounds himself in the touch. It isn’t scary, per se, it’s just a _lot_ , and the other park-goers must think the same. He is pretty sure that everyone in the train is screaming except for Andrew and himself.

 

They go over a rather sharp dip and turn while Andrew monotones a small “Whee.”

 

Neil chokes on a laugh and hugs Andrew’s arm to his chest. “Look at you,” he says over the wind. “You’re having so much fun.”

 

“The time of my life,” Andrew rolls his eyes. He isn’t lying. “I like this. Roller coasters.”

 

Neil practically forgets that he had gotten overwhelmed. Every time Andrew admits to liking anything, Neil holds onto it with everything he has.

 

“The time of your life?” Neil asks. He doesn’t want to pry, but the temptation is so strong.

 

“That is what I said, is it not? Are you dumb _and_ deaf?” Andrew waves Neil off when the ride begins to slow down. If he wants to continue the conversation, he will, and if he doesn’t, he won’t. Neil accepts that with a soft _probably_ and waits for the car to come to a stop. They follow the ride’s exit out to the gift shop (where Neil saves the photo from the coaster on his wristband) and buy a bright red cherry _Icee_ to share from a stall outside.

 

“I meant what I said,” Andrew says around the straw in his mouth before passing the frozen monstrosity to Neil.

 

Neil knows that is all he will get today, and that is enough. “They might brainwash you here, after all.”

 

“It’s the mouse ears. As soon as you put them on, something with brain waves, neurotransmitters, fuck biology, etcetera.” Andrew wipes the sweat from his face on the hem of his tee shirt and sighs. “It’s hot. Let’s go on the river ride.”

 

Neil thinks about the fact that they would get soaked, then he thinks about Andrew’s tee shirt sticking to him. ~~He almost says no because he was _a little bit possessive_ , but he wants to see it more than he doesn’t want anyone else to see it. Oops. ~~ Neil nods and looks to Andrew’s perfect recall to lead the way through the streets of _Animal Kingdom’s_ Asia. In the middle of an intersection, four men on stage sit on a mat with many instruments laid out before them. The sounds of the _sarod, bansuri,_ and _pakhawaj_ reverberate with clarity despite the chaos of the park. Two Indian women dressed in intricately patterned  _sarees_ dance to the live Hindustani music for a moment before inviting others to join in. Andrew pauses for a moment to watch them.

 

“I tried picking up Hinduism once,” Andrew says.  _Surprise._

 

“Is that the whole story?” Neil turns to him and continues to sip on the Icee.

 

“Renee told me that her faith saved her. In my drug-addled mind, I thought it would be hilarious to try and adopt a faith. This simply resulted in a manic episode of falling down an information hole on Hindu culture. Did you know that it is entirely based on love and respect for others?” Andrew takes the Icee back. “I don’t respect anyone. Imagine.”

 

_He loves someone, though._

 

Neil looks like he might give a thoughtful response. _He doesn’t._ “Edgy.”

 

Andrew takes Neil’s backpack strap and tugs it off one shoulder to inconvenience Neil for his insolence and inability to catch things when they actually matter. _Attention to detail, his ass._

 

\---

 

The _Kali River Rapids_ attraction is set along the Chakranadi River. The community and jungle by the water haven’t been taken care of and it is evident. Downed trees and stumps litter the area and an old, dilapidated temple crumbles around them. Neil runs his fingers over a small statue of an elephant as they make their way up to the pagoda where the rafts accept and deposit guests.

 

“Try not to get drenched. You’re wearing white,” Andrew hums, and Neil rolls his eyes.

 

"Are you saying you don't think I'd win the wet tee shirt contest?" 

 

"I plead the fifth."

 

They climb into the raft and strap themselves in. A little boy with a Dallas Dragons exy jersey jumps up onto the seat on the other side of Andrew and gasps.

 

“Mama! Mama, that’s Andrew Minyard!” he hisses. “Number 3, starting goalie for the Foxes! He’s scarier in person!”

 

Andrew’s face remains emotionless, but Neil tries so desperately not to laugh that he thinks he might have a stroke.

 

“Colby, are you sure that’s him? He might just be someone who looks like Andrew,” the boy’s mother warns. She sends Andrew an apologetic look. He doesn’t react to that either.

 

“No, no, those are his armbands, Mama! Like the ones I asked for. For my birthday, remember?” Colby squeaks. He turns in his seat to look up at Andrew, practically bouncing out of his seat. Andrew turns to him slightly.

 

“Hi, Mr. Andrew Minyard.” Colby puts out his hand to shake Andrew’s. Andrew stares. “Oh, okay. Well, um. I’m a goalie for my little league Exy team! You’re my favorite person to watch. You completely block the goal sometimes! My sister showed me all of your highlight videos.” He blushes and points to Andrew’s armbands. “My sister told me that you wear those because they make you badass. Is that true?”

 

“Colby! Oh, dear, I’m sorry for his language!” Colby’s mother frets. She gives him a slap on the back of the hand for his cursing.

 

“Your sister is right,” Andrew says. His gaze flickers from the mother to her child. “They do make me badass. If you want to be as good at Exy as I am, you have to wear them.”

 

“You’re even better than Alvarez! Even better than Knox and Day!” Colby grins. “I will be, too!”

 

“Damn right,” Andrew nods. Then he looks back up at the mother. “Letting your child curse won’t hurt him.”

 

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand, you aren’t a parent,” the woman chuckles. “He knows better.”

 

“Apologize.”

 

Colby’s mother opens her mouth to protest, but she doesn’t like what she sees on Andrew’s face. She sinks into herself a bit and hugs her purse to her stomach. "I'm sorry, Sweetie. I shouldn't have hit you."

 

Colby looks unbothered.  _He must be used to it,_ Andrew thinks.

 

"Do not lay a hand on him again," Andrew warns. It's more of a command, and she realizes that. 

 

Andrew reverts his attention to Colby. “Step 1: Wear armbands. Step 2: Become a badass. Step 3: Beat Kevin Day’s ass at Exy one day. Once you do all of that, come and find me, and we’ll see who’s the best goalie.”

 

Colby looks like he might melt into a puddle and explode simultaneously. “You’re on, Mr. Andrew Minyard!”

 

Andrew smirks. "Oh yeah?"

 

"Promise.” Colby grins and gives Andrew his signature two-fingered salute.

 

Andrew turns back to face forward as they reach the top of the first summit. The scent of jasmine and ginger fills the air, Neil’s barely-there smile blinds him, and his skin feels like the skin he’s supposed to be in.  _Like Neil said, today’s a good day._

 

They fall off the edge of the hill, Neil’s seat rotates backward, first, and a wall of water soaks him immediately.

 

\---

 

Neil takes off his sneakers with a groan and wrings out his socks on the sidewalk.

 

“You look like a drowned rat,” Andrew says, running his fingers through his now-damp curls to put them back in their places.

 

“Yeah, an _irresistible_ drowned rat,” Neil rolls his eyes. “You’re the one always showering with me, so nice try, Asshole.”

 

“God, I can’t wait to drown you and get you out of the way,” Andrew groans.

 

“There are more effective ways to take my breath away,” Neil winks.

 

Andrew rubs the water on his hands off on Neil’s face for that. “It’s not about breathing. Drowned rat. Drowning. So nice try, _Asshole_.” Then, as a true power move, he winks back.

 

Neil looks like he just witnessed God whip his dick out and slap Jesus across the face with it. Never has Andrew winked at Neil. Andrew hasn’t winked at _anyone._ But here Neil is, getting winked at while wringing his socks out on a sidewalk at Disney World. He might as well be prone.

 

“Staring,” Andrew mouths.

 

Neil slams his backpack down onto the ground, pulls out his sandals, puts his wet sneakers away, and flips Andrew off. Andrew takes him by the arm, finds the nearest dark corner, and shoves Neil up against the wall. Neil closes the distance between them first and Andrew follows him until the kisses are bruising.

 

“Do you have a winking kink?” Andrew asks against Neil’s neck.

 

“Just...When you let go and allow yourself to do something new. I can’t handle it,” Neil sighs, keeping his fingers tangled in Andrew’s hair.

 

“You’re emotionally horny, I think."

 

“I think you have Gay Bitch Disease,” Neil retorts.

 

“It’s contagious _and_ terminal.”

 

\---

 

Neil moans Andrew’s name so loudly that Cinderella probably hears it, and that’s fine. Andrew definitely doesn’t mind it when Neil is responsive. It’s constant reassurance that this is nice, that this is safe, and that this is wanted.

 

Andrew hasn’t allowed Neil to be on top of him before this, but today is a good day, and good days are days to try new things. He has to admit that watching Neil does something to him. Neil’s hair is falling into his eyes, his lips are swollen from all of their kissing, and blush tinges his cheeks in the most flattering way. He could be a pipe dream based on looks alone. Neil feels perfect, looks perfect, sounds perfect, tastes perfect, _is_ perfect.

 

Andrew reaches for Neil’s hands and carefully situates them on his chest, right over his heart. The heartfelt expression on Neil’s face is gorgeous, and Andrew suddenly thinks he could never get close enough to Neil, even after he spent so long trying to keep as much distance as he could between them.

 

“Beautiful,” Andrew whispers, his hands slipping down to grip Neil’s hips again, to ground himself and give himself some form of control.

 

Neil melts at the word and comes undone not a second later, and much to his own surprise, Andrew follows suit.

 

In moments like these, Andrew loses his control.

Neil always finds it and returns it in perfect condition.

 

 _Andrew Doe._ Lost boy. _Andrew Minyard._ Found man.

 

 _Andrew._ Man. _Minyard._ Strong.

 

_Lost. Lost. Found._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "dangerous animals" is by arctic monkeys!  
> only one park left. it's EPCOT.  
> should i cut this fic off after disney/their summer, or keep letting it devolve into the mess its becoming? let me know.  
> thanks for reading, as always! please comment and leave kudos if you thought it was neat
> 
> ALSO MY ROOMMATE AND I HAVE A CAT NAMED SIR


	9. date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a long one! warning for panic attacks/nightmares/general not-so-nice-thoughts. i keep reuploading bc i keep not being happy with this chapter

_One. Two._

_Two bullets were all it took to put down Nathan Wesninski._

_The Butcher._

_One. Two._

_The bullets went straight through him where he kneeled and hit the floor behind him with a metallic tinkle that sounded all too innocent in comparison to the machine-gun fire still ringing in his son’s ears._

_Nathaniel Wesninski was not in the business of doing what he was told. So he watched. He watched as blood sprayed out of his father’s body and didn’t flinch when the warmth of it speckled his already bloody face._

_He didn’t know it, but he was laughing, and it was wrong, twisted and breathless and hysterical. It was done. Over so easily._

_Years of suffering,_

 

_Smothered when he cried too loudly as a baby_

_The burn of a hot iron at seven_

_His will destroyed in this basement at nineteen_

 

_all put to an end._

 

_Nathaniel Wesninski closed his eyes and breathed his first breath of freedom before he felt his dead father’s cleaver at his ankles._

 

_“You can never run away from me, Nathaniel.”_

 

Neil wakes with a start and inhales so quickly and deeply that he chokes. He throws the comforter off himself and somehow untangles himself from the sheets before storming into the bathroom of their villa. It is all he can do to get to the toilet in time. He is retching before he can even fall to his knees. The bile burns the back of his throat and leaves that unmistakable sourness on his tongue. _Not real, not real. He’s dead. You saw him die._

 

_Room, spinning. Heart, racing. Mind, bending._

He reaches into the shower and turns the cold water knob as far as it can go before climbing in and sinking to the floor, still fully clothed in his pajamas. The water runs until he is shivering. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in there, he just knows that he has _so many scars._ So many stories. The one he is currently tracing was earned in a knife fight he won. The bullet wound in his chest feels hot. Neil reaches up to run his fingers over the burn scar under his left eye and feels anger bubble up in his stomach. He isn’t supposed to _care_ about this _bullshit_ anymore, but sometimes Neil’s body just doesn’t feel right. It’s Nathaniel Wesninski’s skin draped over Neil Josten, sewn into place by lacerations and melted together by gunfire.

 

The shower has stopped running, but Neil doesn’t open his eyes, because he doesn’t want to see anything right now. He also doesn’t trust himself enough to look. He doesn’t know if he can hold himself together.

 

Neil hears Andrew exhale softly. Shakily, almost. That’s when Neil realizes that he’s crying. _He isn’t supposed to care about this bullshit anymore._ _So why does it still hurt so much?_

 

“Neil.”

 

Neil shakes his head. He doesn’t trust his voice, and he doesn’t want the salt of tears on his tongue.

 

“Can you wrap this towel around yourself?”

 

He nods and feels a towel fall into his lap. He unfolds it as best as he can without opening his eyes and lies down on the floor of the shower, towel snug around his shoulders.

 

“I am leaving a glass of water here on the floor. Drink it if you can.”

 

Neil hears Andrew pad away and wipes his eyes with the backs of his hands. He opens his eyes to find and take the glass Andrew left him. He chugs it unceremoniously and most of it ends up running down his chin to soak him further. It takes a few more minutes for him to get up, but the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchenette reminds him that cold tiles and scratchy hotel towels aren’t comforting. _Aren’t Andrew._ Andrew must hear his feet squeak against the shower mat, because he’s back at the door frame with clothes for Neil. He sets them on the counter and closes the bathroom door so that Neil can change in privacy. Neil does so and walks out into the living area to see Andrew scooping half-melted vanilla ice cream out into two mugs.

 

Neil didn’t pay attention to the clothes he was given at first, but this is Andrew’s Palmetto State hoodie. He pulls the front of it up over his nose to breathe in Andrew’s scent and curls up in a corner of the couch. It’s his favorite sweater and Andrew knows it.

 

Andrew pours a tiny bit of coffee and a shot of whiskey into each cup and begins to mush it around with the ice cream. He brings a mug over to Neil and sets it on the coffee table in front of him. “Same dream?”

 

It was. This dream comes around every few months to remind Neil that his life was very, very fucked up for a very, very long time. Neil nods his head and looks at how Andrew’s hands curl around his mug. _Strong._ He leans forward to pick up Andrew’s concoction and swallows half of it, wanting the whiskey in his stomach _because he’s so damn cold, but this is ice cream,  so that makes it worse, doesn’t it? he’s an idiot, he isn’t paying attention, and everything is too shaky and too close to breaking again and_

 

Andrew’s hand curls around the back of his neck. “Come here.” Familiar. Unwavering.

 

Neil nods and clambers into Andrew’s lap and wraps his arms around Andrew’s waist. Andrew responds in kind, holding Neil together so that he can’t fall apart. They go through their questions, next.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“Neil Abram Josten.”

 

“What do you do?”

 

“I’m a Math major at Palmetto State University. Number 10, starting Striker for the Foxes.”

 

“How long have you been free from your father?”

 

“Three years.”

 

“The last of his men were killed by the Moriyamas last year, were they not?”

 

“Yes.” The sound of Neil’s voice is scratchy and warped. _It’s Nathaniel, not him._

 

“Where are you and who are you with?”

 

 _Center yourself in the moment._ “I am at Disney World. The Polynesian. In a villa. With you.”

 

Andrew’s tone softens drastically. “And who am I?”

 

Neil swallows and buries his face into the crook of Andrew’s shoulder.

 

“Neil.”

 

“Andrew Joseph Minyard.” A pause. “You’re mine.”

 

_He is Neil’s, and Neil is just his._

When Andrew speaks, his voice is almost inaudible. “And who are you to me?”

 

“Yours,” Neil whispers, and everything inside Andrew settles.

 

He is an old house with a cracked foundation, beaten and battered and weather-worn.

Neil started squatting in his life, decided to stay, and then made a house a home.

 

“Yeah,” Andrew nods. “Do you want to watch early _Spongebob_ episodes?”

 

Some people hate routine. Neil loves knowing that he always has something to fall back on. He wants surety more than he wants anything else, and with Andrew, he has it. “The Pizza Delivery episode.”

 

\---

 

_THE KRUSTY KRAH-HE-AH-HE-AH-AH-HE-AH-HE-AB PIZZA IS THE PIZZA, YEAH, FOR YOU AND…_

 

_ME-HE-HEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEHEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEEEE!_

 

\---

 

Neil is sprawled out over the entire area of the couch cushions when he wakes up. He looks down to see Andrew sleeping peacefully on his chest. The weight helps Neil’s anxiety, and since his gravity blanket is back at Palmetto, Andrew is the next best thing. (Well. Andrew is the best thing, but he has pointy elbows and knees and blankets do not.) He doesn’t mean to wake Andrew, but the shift in his steady breathing is enough to rouse Andrew from sleep.

 

Andrew tilts his head upward to look at Neil and blinks twice to prove that he is fully awake. “Coffee,” he croaks through a sleep-heavy voice.

 

Neil leans down to kiss Andrew good morning before slipping out from under him and walking over to the coffee maker to start it up. “D’you want dark or medium roast, Andrew?” Neil asks, and Andrew waves him off with a _whatever._

 

It takes a moment for Andrew to gather enough strength to stand, but he manages, simply because he feels disgusting from the activities of the day before and needs a shower. “Save water,” he says, the okay for _you can shower with me, if you so choose._

 

Neil presses the _BREW_ button on the rig and follows Andrew into the bathroom, keen to wash away the faint memories he has of the night before. Andrew fixes the temperature, borderline scalding, just like they prefer, then they undress and fold their clothes. Compulsivity and preciseness come along with Andrew, but Neil understands. When his whole life used to fit in a bag, everything had its place.

 

“Do we have reservations tonight?”

 

“Mhm. We’ll have to park hop if we want to go to Epcot today, though. This was the only day I could get reservations for The Hollywood Brown Derby. It’s back at Hollywood Studios,” Neil explains. _Also, I kind of want it to be a date. Also, we have to wear suits._ “My treat.”

 

Andrew steps into the shower and pulls Neil with him. “That is the very upscale place we walked by, correct?” he asks, reaching for the shampoo bottle behind his head and pushing Neil under the spray to get his hair wet enough to lather.

 

Neil shrugs. “Yeah. We have to dress nicely. There’s sort of a code. Well, suggestions.”

 

“Are you taking me on a _date_ , Junkie?” Andrew asks, a smirk playing at the corner of his lip. Over the years, his revulsion to stereotypical “dates” had morphed into a simple _distaste,_ then indifference, and now some sort of _soft_ appreciation. Neil does not have to do anything like this for Andrew, but he wants to. It took Andrew a while to realize that. Neil is not pretending that they are normal for a night when he takes Andrew out (both of them know that they will never be a normal couple), he is just doing something _kind_. In this case, he is dressing up to take Andrew out for food at a famous restaurant. Andrew likes nice clothes and he likes nice food. _Thoughtful._ He runs his fingers through Neil’s hair to distribute the product and starts to massage it into his _not-boyfriend’s_ scalp.

 

“You know I don’t take you out on _dates_. Just excursions,” Neil hums. “Maybe I wanted to eat there and they wouldn’t let me make a reservation for one, so I had to drag you along.”

 

“I know you hate your suit.” Andrew changes his grip on Neil’s hair in order to gently tilt his head backward and rinse the suds away. “I am okay with it.”

 

“Okay with what?” Neil asks, opening one eye to look at Andrew.

 

Andrew exhales with a huff. He doesn’t like saying things like that _outright._ “You know.”

 

Neil makes no move to suggest that he knows anything at all. _Dumbass._

 

“With you calling it what it is.”

 

“A date,” Neil says dumbly, and the word hangs in the air for a moment before turning to steam and filling the space around them.

 

“Yes, Neil.” Andrew nods. “A date.”

 

“Does this mean that when you took me to--”

 

“I do not know how someone can ace every calculus course, know five languages, and still be such a fucking moron,” Andrew grumbles, but there’s no heat to it.

 

“Your moron,” Neil grins. He is content to let Andrew kiss it off his face.

 

\---

 

They end up taking the day off from the parks and go to the Disney Springs shopping center instead. Andrew is dead set on forcing Neil to buy new clothes. He hasn’t bought any himself since he was forced to during his freshman year, even though he’s gained muscle. His only source of clothing comes from Andrew, who shoves a few things into his hands once every few months for Eden’s or for whatever else. Neil is currently entirely in an outfit that Andrew bought him--A well-worn The 1975 tee, jeans with strategically-placed holes in them, and those same beat-to-shit Vans he always wears.

 

“Is this really necessary?” Neil sighs. “You know I hate shopping for myself.”

 

“I am afraid so. Who will buy your clothes when I am gone?”

 

Andrew doesn’t regret things, but the look on Neil’s face makes him _hurt._

 

“I will just have to do your shopping online,” Andrew shrugs. “You can FaceTime me during the process. You are not getting off so easily.”

 

That response minutely helps, but now all Neil can think about is how much time he has left with Andrew before they have to spend so much time apart. Weeks. Maybe even months. He thought he was done with countdowns. He would really, _really_ like to get to the _forever_ part and skip the fuck over the _being without Andrew_ bullshit. He knows that Andrew isn’t _leaving him,_ leaving him, but the nagging fear that Andrew will grow tired of the distance ahead of them makes Neil wish he hadn’t just devoured an entire caramel apple.

 

“I know. That doesn’t make this any less hard for me,” Neil whispers.

 

Andrew squeezes Neil’s hand more tightly. “Neil, you know how quickly light can travel.”

 

“Three-hundred million meters per second. What does that have to do with the fact that you will be in Tennessee or traveling constantly while I will be stuck in Palmetto?” He’s on edge, tensing up, and there’s an urgent, waiting emptiness behind his stare.

 

“Four hundred and forty miles, Math-Fuck. That’s roughly 708,000 meters in seven hours. Compared to light time?” Andrew stops walking and turns to face Neil.

 

“It’s almost negligible, but I don’t see--”

 

“Call me. FaceTime. Text. Snapchat. I do not give a shit. You do not have an excuse to hide from me. If you need or just-- _want_ me, I will be there. Instantly. Is that clear, Abram?”

 

“But a screen isn’t _you,_ Andrew.” Neil is genuinely hurting, and it shows in his frustration. He doesn’t like to feel certain things. _Selfishness_ is one of those things. Just like Andrew, he hates _wanting_ things because _want_ leads to weakness.

 

But they can want. They _do._

It is just easier to want a kiss or a Butterbeer than it is to want a person.

_To want a life with a person._

 

Andrew is stern and unwavering, just as Neil needs him to be, but he is afraid of the coming year, too. “It will have to be enough. I am not leaving you, Abram.”

 

It’s _Nathaniel_ that doubts Andrew. A few years ago, Neil would have doubted him as well. But progress _is progress is progress,_ and that’s why Andrew used _Abram_. He’s talking to Nathaniel _and_ Neil. Neil won’t ask Andrew to promise, as much as Nathaniel wants to.

 

“I know,” Neil sighs. He _does_ know.

 

“Good.” Andrew reaches up to cup Neil’s cheek. He asks for a yes with his stare, and Neil turns his head to press his lips to Andrew’s thumb. Soft kisses lessen the blows of biting tongues and convey everything that they can’t bring themselves to utter.

 

“I looked at flights. They only cut the trip time in half because Nashville doesn’t fly straight in, but,” he trails off. “That’s just so much more than we’re used to. We’ve lived together for three years. I think I’ve seen you every single day since…” _Rehab._

 

“It is only an hour flight for both of us to meet in the middle. In Atlanta,” Andrew interjects.

 

Allison told Neil that when he felt so warm inside that his stomach hurt, it was called “having butterflies.” Andrew gives Neil butterflies a lot. It’s quite the inconvenience. He has them now because _Andrew has been thinking about this, too._

 

“We’re going to be okay.” Neil needs to hear it out loud.

 

Andrew cocks his head at Neil like he’s trying to remember the definition of the word. _Okay._ He supposes that’s what he is now. A lot of the time, he feels better than just _okay._ Most days, now, he feels _content._ After a moment, he nods. “Better than okay, Neil.”

 

“Butterflies,” Neil mumbles.

 

“I didn’t think that hallucinations were a side effect of your anxiety medication.”

 

Neil rolls his eyes and bumps his hip against Andrew’s. “Bastard.”

 

Andrew grins and shakes his head because his life is ridiculous and nothing makes any sense, but here he is, discussing his future with a stupid boy that he _hates_. “Your bastard, though, aren’t I?”

 

The entire display causes _neil.exe_ to crash.

 

“You dumbass energy levels are higher than normal, Neil.” Andrew hums. He pulls a lollipop from Neil’s backpack and stuffs the wrapper in Neil’s front pocket before popping the sucker into his mouth. _He is cool. He is casual._ ~~_He is hopelessly in love._ ~~

 

When Neil finally speaks, his voice is hoarse (probably from gaping at Andrew for the past century). “You are unbe- _fucking-_ lievable.”

 

“The ‘against all odds’ thing is kind of our schtick, right? I have to stay true to form,” Andrew shrugs. He thinks about how smooth and indifferent he would look with a cigarette between his lips at the moment. The only shitty aspect of quitting is the detriment it made to his aesthetic, but _whatever_. His lollipop will have to do.

 

Neil stares at him for a few more seconds before walking into a random storefront in an act of defiance.

 

Little did he know, it was the store Andrew was going to drag him into anyway.

 

\---

 

“Andrew, these pants are too tight. What the fuck.”

 

“May I open my eyes?”

 

“Ugh, fuck. I guess. Yes,” Neil groans.

 

Andrew shifts slightly on the tiny dressing room stool and uncovers his eyes. He is met with the sight of very muscular thighs stuffed into soft black jeans that are just a little cropped at the ankle. Neil turns in the mirror to look at his ass in them and scowls while Andrew tries not to ascend to the _gay ass bitch_ plane. The bright yellow short-sleeved button-up Neil has tucked into the waistband is doing something with the combination of his auburn hair and ice blue eyes that makes Andrew want to Oedipus the shit out of his own eyes.

 

“I feel like a fucking sunflower or some shit. Like I’m a lemon-boy-thing. Like, I feel like it’s probably a look, but at the cost of my nutsack?” Neil grumbles, yanking at the crotch of his new jeans and wiggling about as he stares himself down in the mirror.

 

Andrew crosses his legs to discourage any problems that may or may not be ailing him at the moment and rests his elbow on his knee. “Shift your balls around.”

 

Neil looks scandalized. “Y-You—What?” He looks down at his crotch, looks up at Andrew, looks back down at his crotch, and points there. “Shift my balls around?”

 

“Shift your balls around,” Andrew repeats, and Neil relents.

 

Neil turns around, shoves his hand down his pants, does some finagling, and then sighs. “Okay. Better,” he nods, spinning on the hardwood with his socks to face Andrew again. “So. A look? Yes or no?” He tries posing for a moment. First, he shoves his hands into his pockets. Then he tries to lean against the stall door, promptly knocking the ‘keep’ pile off the hooks.

 

In order to pick them up, Neil has to bend over in the small space. Andrew holds his breath and grounds out a _yes._

 

Neil “only occasionally keenly aware of his effect on Andrew” Josten gazes over his shoulder at Andrew with a smirk. “Oh? Why exactly is it a yes?”

 

Andrew slumps against the back wall and rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head that his eyelids flutter. “Next outfit. Go.”

 

“No, no. I’m not changing until I get an answer. Why is it a yes, Andrew, hm?” Neil hums.

 

Simultaneously grabbing Neil by a belt loop and flipping him off is a well-known Get-Neil-To-Shut-The-Fuck-Up tactic at this point, but groping Neil’s ass hasn’t been on the table until this very moment. Andrew raises an eyebrow to ask for a yes, Neil raises one in return, and then Andrew squeezes Neil’s ass so roughly that Neil chokes on the laugh that the entire situation forced from his lungs.

 

“On God, in this lifetime, I will make you admit that you like my ass, just because I’m too invested at this point.”

 

Andrew presses his foot to Neil’s ass and pushes him across the stall. “Next outfit, Lemon-Boy. We have dinner reservations tonight, remember?”

 

\---

 

Andrew has never learned how to tie a tie _well_ , so Neil does it for him. As Neil slowly works through the motions, _loop here, pull it through there,_ Andrew cards his fingers through Neil’s hair with a bit of product until it’s styled properly. Neil is a dream in a dark grey suit that almost shifts steel blue, and Andrew is a vision in matte black. Once they’re ready, Neil asks to take a photo of Andrew with the polaroid camera Andrew gifted him two years ago. He doesn’t even have to beg too much for a look that doesn’t scream “I will disembowel you.”

 

Andrew snaps a picture of Neil to post to his private Instagram while they’re on the bus to Hollywood Studios.

 

\---

 **aminyard:** butterflies @neiljos10

 

Of course, Neil’s phone is dead, so he isn’t bombarded with the notifications.

 

 **wildfox:** OH BITCH!! THAT’S MY SON!

 

 **allisonreynolds:** @ickynicky you owe me so much fucking money

 

 **mattyboi:** @aminyard Neil is so happy please tell him I love him!!

 

 **aminyard:** @mattyboi no

 

 **ickynicky:** ALSKDFASLKDFNA;NGAKWJNGAUWGNA;WFA;DGAFG

 

 **ickynicky:** @allisonreynolds shit

 

 **reneew:** <3

 

~~**kevinday:** @aminyard Answer my fucking texts. ~~

 

~~**kevinday:** @aminyard Stop deleting my fucking comments. ~~

 

~~**kevinday:** @aminyard god damn it Andrew ~~

\---

 

Once they arrive at the Brown Derby, they walk down a little red carpet into a beautiful waiting area. Everything is stupidly lavish, as the restaurant is meant to mirror old Hollywood. Marble floors fade off into intricate carpets, warm light oozes from every chandelier, and rich, dark wood furniture pieces with burgundy accents contrast perfectly with the pale walls. Glass-shaded lamps by the booths, derby-hat sconces, and caricatures of several famous Disney guests further add to the illusion that they’ve been sent back to the 40s.

 

Andrew is rather put off by this. Even the waiter escorting them to their table is dressed as though he walked straight out of a black-and-white film. His demeanor changes when he sees the chocolate monstrosity slapped onto a plate at one of the booths. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

 

Neil pulls out Andrew’s seat a little, and just to be a bitch, Andrew goes and sits in the opposite chair at their _table for two._ “Am I not allowed to make this a real date?”

 

“Did you look up _How to be Chivalrous_ on WikiHow before tonight, Neil?” Andrew asks, carefully unfolding his napkin and draping it over his lap. “We said that it was a date, so it is a date. You do not have to try and impress me with chairs and door-holding and other heterosexual, nonsensical bullshit.”

 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Neil gasps like he’s been holding his breath since they got to the restaurant. “I didn’t--I didn’t know if I had to be, you know. _Heterosexual,”_  he smirks. There wasn’t a better term to describe all of the romantic tropes he had read about and seen in the shitty rom-coms at Fox movie nights.

 

“Any surprises I should look out for, speaking of tropes? A wine aged from a very eventful year in my past? Engagement rings on breadsticks? New car keys with the dessert plate?” Andrew crosses his legs and folds his hands in his lap. Neil can’t help but drool over how _good_ he looks like that. Relaxed, but in a suit. _So very, very pretty._

 

“I already bought you one car, you greedy motherfucker.”

 

The look Andrew shoots Neil is borderline playful, and Neil stops drooling for long enough to have a god damned heart attack.

 

“Mm, with blood money. I like tradition. Both of my cars have been purchased with money that I did not have to work for and I think I would like to keep that up with Moriyama leftovers,” Andrew hums, picking up his glass of champagne and sipping it thoughtfully. “Maybe a Jaguar next time.”

 

The transition between hating Andrew and falling in love with him was a slow bleed. Now, Neil would give Andrew the world in a heartbeat. He wonders exactly when Andrew’s smile went from something he detested to something he craved more than anything, but he doesn’t think it matters much anymore. All that’s real is how golden Andrew’s hazel eyes look in the light and how he looks like an angel in devil’s clothes. _Only Neil Josten could say that Andrew Minyard looks like a fucking angel, but Neil has a lot of strange opinions about most things._

 

They drink champagne and gorge themselves on bread and soup before their main course is even thought about. Andrew orders some outlandishly expensive steak because he can, and Neil settles on the lamb. It’s a very American, meat-and-potatoes sort of joint, but upscale, which neither one of them are used to, so when their food arrives, it is...An experience.

 

“Andrew, look at this. Is this a rock? Is there a rock on my plate?”

 

Andrew stabs the “rock” with his fork and cuts into it with his knife. The grayish lump is _purple_ on the inside. He makes a face and picks it up with his fingers to sniff it. He can’t pinpoint it over the sauce from Neil’s plate, so he takes a bite.

 

“It’s a fucking potato,” Andrew grimaces. “Why the hell is it purple?” He spears the potato onto his fork and hands it to Neil for him to try it.

 

Neil almost doesn’t want to try it on principle, but he does, and when they get past the unnecessary aspects of their plates, they begin to truly enjoy their meal together. The conversation is centered around people-watching. They make up scenarios and lives for the families and couples seated around them and almost get too involved with the drama between a young woman and a MUCH older man sitting across the room.

 

“Her shoe is sliding up his leg. He just took his medicine with his food. Can someone say…”

 

“Viagra,” Neil says, raising his glass to that and throwing back the last of his champagne. “I think he recently had a facelift. He sort of looks like someone took plastic wrap and just held his wrinkles back with it.”

 

Andrew snorts and shakes his head. “His eyelids sagged so much that he couldn’t see when she was off with the pool boy at their beachfront property.”

 

“Oh, obviously. And he took her to Disney World to win back her heart. They say that romance is dead,” Neil sighs wistfully and pops the last bite of his lamb chops into his mouth. “It’s nice to be on the ‘fun’ side of staring. This, and...” They both knew the other bit.

 

“Oh? What else constitutes as the ‘fun’ side of staring?”

 

Neil throws his napkin at Andrew and Andrew laughs.

 

It is not a normal date, but it is _their_ date, and that’s more than they ever thought they’d have.

 

They order grapefruit cake and the chocolate monstrosity to-go and kiss on the bus ride back to the hotel.

 

They change into their pajamas and sit on the porch swing of their villa with desserts in hand to watch the fireworks spring up in the distance. Neil rests his head on Andrew’s shoulder and Andrew pulls Neil closer when the breeze off the water makes him shiver.

 

They are silent for a long while. After the finale of the fireworks show, Andrew finally speaks. “Thank you, Neil.”

 

Neil has a lot that he needs to say. For now, he settles on “You’re welcome, Andrew.”

 

Andrew is content to sit and play with Neil’s hands. He knows that something is on Neil’s mind, but he doesn’t push until Neil starts biting his lip obsessively. “Neil.”

 

Neil almost jumps out of his seat and attempts to act like he didn’t. “Hm?”

 

“Spit it out.”

 

 _Neil has a lot that he needs to say and “thank you” doesn’t cut it._ He’s been trying to find the right words for years, but they never come. He could count the number of thoughtful things someone had done for him on two hands before he met Andrew, and now he couldn’t keep track of the kindness in his life if he tried. Of course, Wymack, Abby, and the Foxes were a huge source of that kindness, but Andrew’s own brand of care meant the most to him. _A key. A promise. An order. The kisses. A chance. A life. The game. The truths. The late nights on rooftops. The late nights in bed. The bad nights. The bad days. Every pint of ice cream, every cup of coffee, every “I made enough for two.”_ All of that can only make Neil think one thing about Andrew, and no matter what words he tries to find, he always come back to the same ones.

 

“I love you.” It’s a whisper. It’s a truth. It’s Neil: innocent, full of wonder, and whole.

 

Andrew goes tense. That was not what he had prepared himself for. He knew that what he had with Neil was something _akin_ to love. ~~_It was love._~~ He had no idea that this was what it would be like to have to face it. It wasn’t earth-shattering. It wasn’t down-on-one-knee.

 

It was Neil.

 

“I don’t expect you to say it back,” Neil clarifies, hugging Andrew’s arms where they lie around his waist. “I just want you to know.”

 

 _Andrew has a lot that he needs to say and “I love you” doesn’t cut it._ He spent his whole childhood aching for love. He spent his early adolescence destroying himself for a taste of it. He spent his time in juvie and with Tilda convincing himself that love was a lie, that nothing good ever lasted, and that everything that could ever make you happy would disappoint you in the end. Neil broke every wall in Andrew down and planted flowers in the rubble. Andrew knows that love is a lie, because love showed up as Neil Josten.

 

The more real Neil becomes, the more real love becomes.

 

“Four-hundred percent," Andrew whispers, and Neil understands.

 

They kiss until their mouths are numb. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEEHAW...ONE CHAPTER LEFT LADS  
> this is going to turn into a series. i won't be able to write much for a while because of final exams and stuff at college, but over winter break, i will be Ready to Fucking Go  
> also i'm going to disney world for christmas what kind of self-insert double-reacharound bullshit  
> thanks, as always, for reading and commenting and being rad as hell  
> <3


	10. time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andrew and neil go to epcot. they have a soft last day. andrew says something that neil doesn’t hear.  
> they buy ikea furniture.

Neil has the most overwhelming urge to reach out and touch the little stars that surround them in _Spaceship Earth._ His exhaustion from his time at the parks has him daydreaming over the narration of the ride and its slow drone. It’s their last day at the parks before they drive home, and while Neil doesn’t want to leave _The Happiest Place on Earth,_ he is very excited to start moving Andrew into his new apartment. _Their_ new apartment.

 

Neil hums softly before he speaks. “Parts of us used to be inside stars. That’s beyond me.”

 

“That was a bit out of turn.” Andrew looks up at Neil and then past his head at the seemingly endless amount of tiny blue lights framing him from behind. “It’s unlike you to be poetic about anything that isn’t exy.”

 

“I thought we had a ‘No Exy’ rule for this trip.” Neil looks over his shoulder to see if Andrew is staring at anything in particular, but by the time he turns around, Andrew is facing forward again and sinking lower into his seat, and then they’re moving out of the little tunnel and on to the next bit of the attraction.

 

“Who’s Exy? I don’t know her.” Andrew is trying to look genuinely confused. “Are you leaving me for someone named ‘Exy?’ This sounds like quite the torrid affair.” He turns up his nose. “And what a stupid name.”

 

Neil rolls his eyes and snorts. “I didn’t intend for it to be like this. She’s just so…” Neil trails off. Normally he is so precise with the words he chooses and can form an easy retort in a second. Around Andrew, words often escape him, and he can’t even imagine a reason as to why he would ever leave Andrew. _The only way he would ever go would be if Andrew asked him to._ He blushes and looks down at his lap. “Okay, yeah, I’ve got nothing.”

 

Andrew thinks back to the night before. _I love you. You don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know._ Neil couldn’t joke about leaving him at the moment because of that recent admission. He never apologizes for anything because there is no use, so he settles for placing a hand on Neil’s knee and gently squeezing it. “There’s a joke about balls in there somewhere you could have used.”

 

That makes Neil smirk again, which is all Andrew cares about.

 

Their cart circles around the conveyor belt and they step off to the exit together. Andrew walks closely beside Neil as they make their way to _Mission: Space,_ and Neil brushes his hand against Andrew’s again and again.

 

Andrew flips his sunglasses down from his head to cover his eyes because he probably looks a little lovesick. “If you’re going to try and hold my hand, commit to it,” he grumbles. “Bitch.”

 

Neil takes Andrew’s hand and squeezes it as hard as he possibly can, and of course, Andrew squeezes harder in return and makes Neil laugh through the pain. _“Ow._ Jesus, fuck, how do you do that shit?” Andrew simply runs his thumb over Neil’s palm in response as they join the queue for the more _advanced_ Orange Mission to Mars.

 

“There’s small spaces and a lot of moving in this one. Did you take your medicine this morning?” Andrew asks. Neil nods and pulls his earbuds and phone out of his backpack, handing the left bud to Andrew and taking the right for himself. Andrew picks a song first and they go back and forth like that for a while, sharing music and commenting on specific lyrics they like as they wait. Neil compiles it all into a new playlist and shares it with Andrew.

 

 

  * __“Natural” by Imagine Dragons__


  * _“The Run and Go” by Twenty One Pilots_


  * _“Bleed Magic” by I Don’t Know How But They Found Me_


  * _“Haunt / / Bed” by The 1975_


  * _“Contagious” by Night Riots_


  * _“The Beach” by The Neighbourhood_


  * _“Breezeblocks” by alt-J_


  * _“Simple Man” by Lynyrd Skynyrd_



 

 

After they are directed towards numbers on the ground, they are assigned roles for the mission. Andrew is given the role of Commander, Neil is the Pilot, and the two other people riding with them receive the roles of Navigator and Flight Engineer. They watch a short video that explains what their mission positions are. Paradoxically, the pilot does not actually pilot the shuttle. The commander does all of that and the pilot just separates rocket stages and deploys shields or some shit. It’s bullshit if you ask Neil, but whatever, he isn’t NASA, or the _International Space Training Center_ , or _whatever_ Disney calls it. Andrew grumbles over the details behind the craft itself, because everyone knows that shuttles kind of suck because of all the moving parts and that solid hydrogen fuel would be wildly heavy, but he isn’t building it. Neil doesn’t know why Andrew knows so much about spaceflight. Andrew doesn’t either.

 

“So we’re going into hypersleep in this simulator? Imagine all the science that could be done during deep space exploration,” Neil frowns. “It seems like a waste.”

 

“NASA only gets a sixteenth of a penny on the dollar,” Andrew shrugs. “Can’t afford to grow space lettuce when you’re trying to send people to Mars.”

 

They step through into the final room and board their crew capsules. They’re exactly what you’d expect: Cramped and filled with buttons that have abbreviated labels no one could ever understand. Andrew straps himself into the Commander’s seat and looks over to his left at the Navigator. “Do you know how to get to Mars?”

 

The Navigator smirks at him. “Yeah. Gravitational assists are essential to gain enough speed. There’s only one launch window every 26 months, though, so we better get this right. I’ll make sure we don’t fuck it up,” they roll their eyes. “I’m T. The Flight Engineer is my roommate, Summer,” they add, not that Andrew asked. “You and your boyfriend are cute together.”

 

Andrew shrugs and wraps his hand around the throttle in front of him as the doors of their capsule slide closed. With that, their mission begins. The simulation itself is comprised of a multi-arm centrifuge with separate capsules that pitch and roll to mimic spaceflight. The crew is warned that they will experience about 2.5 Gs during the ride from the centrifuge, and it is then that Neil notices the barf bags in front of him. Oh. _Neat._

 

“Flight Deck, this is Mission Control. Complete final preflight checks and prepare for liftoff of X-2 and her crew.” A few buttons light up to give said crew tasks to complete as more of the dialogue runs.

 

“Commander, Pilot, Navigator, Flight Engineer. This is Capcom. Do you read me?”

 

“Loud and clear,” Neil hums.

 

“Navigator, weather is optimal for launch. All systems are functioning nominally.”

 

“Roger.”

 

“Flight Engineer, are all electrical systems go?”

 

“Go,” Summer giggles. “Fuck, I feel like I’m actually going to space.”

 

“Pilot, tower arm retraction in T-minus five seconds,” Capcom relays, and Neil presses the proper button when he’s supposed to. “Prepare for gimbal checks.”

 

“Capcom to Commander, standby for launch.”

 

“Roger.” Andrew is having—get this—a great time. 

 

Another voice—that of the Flight Director—comes through the speakers behind their heads.

 

_T-minus 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Booster ignition. We have liftoff of X-2 and her crew._

 

A switch over Neil’s head begins to blink to indicate that the first stage of the booster must be detached, and after T sets them up for their gravitational slingshot around the moon, the second stage is dropped to propel the craft into deep space.

 

_Initiate hypersleep._

 

\---

 

So they MAY have gotten into an meteor shower and they MAY slid off the runway and they MAY have almost fallen off a cliff into a Martian canyon. Who could truly say? It was probably Summer’s fault, or definitely T’s, even though they weren’t piloting the craft. In any case, Neil walks out feeling like an astronaut, and Andrew looks pleased despite fucking up the landing (i.e., less resting-bitch and more neutral). While Neil mills around the gift shop, Andrew leans against one wall, just watching his _not-boyfriend_ touch things and look at tags.

 

Neil pays for a tiny object and walks back over to Andrew. “I got you something.” He reaches into the shopping bag and pulls out a keychain that reads _X-2 Commander._  “For not obliterating us entirely,” he adds, and the stupid smirk that Andrew hates crosses Neil’s face.

 

Andrew snatches the gift from Neil’s hand, pulls his keys out of his pocket, and quickly attaches the obnoxiously shiny keepsake to his keyring. “You must refer to me as Commander Minyard for the rest of the day. Non-negotiable,” he quips, shoving his keys back where they belong and pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose.

 

Neil pulls their water bottles from his backpack. “Hydrate or die-drate, Commander Minyard.”

 

“I fucking hate that. Never say it again.” Andrew takes the bottle and downs part of it for Neil, anyway, because what is he going to do, say no? “As your Commander, I think _I_ should be the one doing the commanding.”

 

“I should have left you in Millport where I found you,” Neil quips around his straw.

 

And what is Andrew going to do, _not_ complete the reference? “But ‘cha didn’t.”

 

Neil is pulling more bullshit out of his bag. “Sunscreen. I won’t have you getting melanoma on top of the lung cancer we probably already have.”

 

Andrew rolls his eyes and holds his hand out for some before messily slathering it all over his face. “I will just get more freckles if I burn. Not a big deal.”

 

“And what if one of those freckles is a mole that is actually melanoma?” He looks for a nonverbal _yes_ and wipes a bit of sunscreen from Andrew’s septum ring. “What would you do without me?”

 

“Not wear sunscreen.”

 

“You know, every day, I ask myself, ‘Neil, how did you get here?’ And every day, I come to the same conclusion: ‘I have no fucking idea.’”

 

“It’s simple. I beat the shit out of you with an exy racquet when I saw your stupid face, and for some reason, that really gave you the hots for me, and now I can’t get rid of you.”

 

“You know me so well.”

 

“I do,” Andrew nods. He isn’t teasing Neil anymore. Andrew is the only person who sees every part of Neil without shying away. He knows how many people Neil has killed and doesn’t bat an eye at the number. He knows that Neil could probably beat God in a knife fight. He knows the story behind every scar on Neil.

 

He also knows that Neil can eat an entire pizza by himself. He knows that Neil’s favorite pajama bottoms are the ones with polar bears on them that Dan gave Neil the Christmas of his sophomore year. Andrew knows that Neil, who has seen more death than a mortician, will coo at stray cats, be stupidly amused by Snapchat filters, and will always force him to wear sunscreen.

 

Andrew knows Neil.

 

Neil smiles down at his _not-boyfriend,_ whom he definitely _does not love._ “Yeah.”

 

\---

 

Andrew isn’t feeling heights that day, so they skip out on _Soarin’_ after _Test Track_ (because fast _fucking_ cars, obviously) and head to the _World Showcase_ instead. The Epcot _World Showcase_ is a giant circle on one end of the park that features the architecture, cuisine, and other famous aspects of eleven different countries from around the world. Andrew is unashamedly rushing around the circle to _Germany_ for the craft beers and handmade caramels, and Neil is more than happy to walk alongside him.

 

Three pints and half a bag of caramels later, Andrew is heavily leaning on Neil as they sit on a park bench and bathe in the Florida sunlight. To anyone else, Andrew looks perfectly sober, but Neil knows better. He uses his chopsticks from _Japan_ to feed Andrew a piece of chicken. “I really admire how dead set you were on getting day-drunk and eating candy instead of having an actual meal.”

 

Andrew flips him off and opens his mouth for more, which Neil gladly delivers. “I am the best goddamned role model anyone could ever ask for.”

 

“That you are. Kids should always be ready to shank a bitch. You’re also a heavy advocate for the latest breakthroughs in health science, including the reform on the main food groups, now candy, beer, Coco Puffs, and chocolate fudge brownie ice cream.”

 

“Why follow someone like Ellen or Jesus when you can be gay, eat like shit, and do crimes?”

 

“Ellen is a lesbian, I think.”

 

“Did you hear that, Junkie?”

 

“Hear what?”

 

“It was a sound that signified how much I give a shit.”

 

“If you can’t be nice, I’m not sharing the rest of my lunch.”

 

“I would rather starve than bend to your will.”

 

“That isn’t true.”

 

“Hey Neil? Fuck you.”

 

“Maybe later,” Neil shrugs, and Andrew pops him on the back of the head.

 

\---

 

They walk around the rest of the circle through _Morocco_ , _France_ , and _United Kingdom._ Andrew didn’t want to steal Neil’s food and he actually needs to eat, so Neil walks up to a counter and orders Andrew some “chips.” In each part of the _World Showcase,_ the Cast Members (why aren’t they just called employees?) hail from the specified country. The Cast Member serving Neil asks him about his day at the park while Neil waits, and Neil doesn’t catch himself slipping into his old English accent that mirrors the worker’s.

 

Commander Andrew “Gay Disaster” Minyard simply cannot handle that. Behind his sunglasses, he’s looking at Neil like Neil is a snack. And Andrew? He is Little _fucking_ Debbie.

 

Neil turns to give Andrew the food and knows that something is off. _The jig is up._ “Are you okay?”

 

“Later.” Andrew pops a fry into his mouth. “And bring your accent.”

 

\---

 

They have tickets to the _luau_ at the _Polynesian,_ but Andrew and Neil decide to stay in for their final night at Disney World. It has been a hectic week filled with too many people, too many singing princess, and too many decapitated mouse heads. In lieu of traditional Hawaiian fare and dancing, they dine on microwavable macaroni and cheese in bed and watch _The Incredibles._

 

“If you had a superpower, Commander Minyard, what would it be?” Neil askes, squishing mouse-head-shaped noodles underneath his plastic spoon.

 

“Bold of you to assume I’d only have one,” Andrew quips. “I’d be like Jack-Jack.”

 

“No. Pick one, Bitch.” Neil pokes Andrew’s cheek with his spoon.

 

Andrew wipes the cheese sauce off his face with his thumb and sticks the digit into his mouth as he considers the question. “First off, that is _Commander_ Bitch to you. Second, since you are no fun and are making me pick, I would have super strength.”

 

“Typical jock,” Neil teases, and Andrew flicks macaroni at his face. Neil eats the noodles without comment just to be annoying. “I guessed that or the ability to create force fields. You could most effectively protect the people you care about with those powers.”

 

“Oh, am I getting predictable? Tragic.” Andrew leans over to rest his head on Neil’s shoulder. “What about you, Junkie? What superpower would you have? Super-speed? Invisibility?” Andrew scrapes the last of his dinner from the bottom of its container and keeps the spoon in his mouth just to have something to fiddle with. Ever since he stopped smoking, his fingers and lips itch for distractions.

 

“I think I would want to read minds.” Neil finishes up his food and stacks his cup inside Andrew’s before setting them both aside. “I could know if anyone is trying to hurt us and the rest of the Foxes, what moves people might make on the court, and exactly what you think of me.” That earns him a glare, but Neil ignores it. “Though I believe I already know exactly what you think of me, Commander Minyard.”

 

Interest? Piqued enough to pull the spoon from his mouth. “And what _do_ I think of you?”

 

Neil’s expression is so warm that it could melt and mold steel. _He is the sun. He is planting flowers under Andrew’s skin and making him bloom._ “Exactly what I think of you.”

 

“So you think that I am a hopeless moron?” Andrew mumbles, tilting his head upward to kiss Neil’s jaw to hide the half-smile bred by such sickly-sweetness. Andrew is never sure if those smiles come from Neil’s heartfeltness or his own amusement at the fact that this is now his life, but he supposes it doesn’t really matter.

 

Neil shivers slightly at the touch and nods. “Exactly.”

 

“It is later now.” Andrew continues kissing along the outline of Neil’s face and reaches up to grab Neil’s chin and direct Neil’s gaze to his own. “What do you want?”

 

Already an oversensitive mess, Neil blurts out his answer with no thought. “You.” Andrew squeezes his jaw and Neil knows that means he didn’t give a good enough answer. “Keep kissing me and I’ll figure it out.”

 

Andrew accepts that and pulls Neil in for a kiss that Neil meets with his special brand of initial softness. Once, Neil kissed Andrew too roughly at the start, and that rush resulted in a few bruised ribs and a lot of guilt, so Neil learned to let Andrew set the pace. Andrew _loves_ Neil’s gentleness. He loves that Neil Abram Josten, strong and smart and stern, becomes soft and stupid and serene just for him. He taps Neil’s wrist with two fingers just to let him know where they stand, touch wise, and Neil presses his palms to Andrew’s chest in response. Neil pushes gently and Andrew complies with that, but wraps his hands around Neil’s wrists once he’s lying down to control how much of Neil’s weight is on his torso.

 

A warm tongue suddenly slides over Andrew’s neck. He’s going to explode. Somewhere, Neil is saying his name, and he has to pull himself out of _Gaybitchland, Population: Himself_ to answer.

 

“Andrew, I want to get us both off at the same time. Yes or no?”

 

Neil is flushed, rosy and pink and perfect. Andrew cranes his neck to kiss him and whispers a _yes_ against Neil’s lips.

 

\---

 

When Neil’s breathing finally evens out, Andrew is pressed to Neil’s chest with his ear directly over Neil’s heart. Andrew settles into that heartbeat’s easy cadence like he does every night and tries to match up their breathing. When Andrew finds his voice, he doesn’t expect to say what he does and he doesn’t sound like himself, but what he whispers makes him feel more like himself than he ever has. It is the last truth that he owes Neil. Maybe one day, he will allow Neil to hear it.

 

"I love you, too."

 

\---

 

Neil drops the last Ikea box and collapses on top of it in a heap. He will never move again. He has never hauled so many boxes anywhere in his life.

 

Andrew looks up from the coffee table he’s putting together and points at the box under his _not-boyfriend._ “That’s the one I need.”

 

“Sorry, I can’t move because I’m actually dead.” Neil sticks his tongue out and closes his eyes to prove this fact.

 

Andrew crawls on top of Neil and thumps him on the nose before pressing a kiss to his lips. “Wake the fuck up, Sleeping Beauty. Bastard. We have a lot of work to do.”

 

Neil wraps his arms around Andrew’s shoulders to keep him from immediately getting up.

 

“We have all the time in the world.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGH thank you for READING THIS FAR and waiting so patiently for this last update. this story will continue into a series that focuses on neil’s last year at PSU and how his relationship with andrew evolves and changes through the distance they will have to face.  
> this was all fluff. but prepare for angst. 
> 
> i wrote half of this at disney world ;-) also don’t come for me about mission: space i changed it a bit so that it would be cooler bc tbh they could do so much more with that simulation 
> 
> anyway. thank you all so, so much. your comments and kudos have been so encouraging and i’m so happy i got to share this self-indulgent bullshit with you. happy holidays <3 
> 
> ALSO the “commit to it” hand holding credit goes to that one tumblr post!! I couldn’t find it to give credit but if anyone knows who posted it please let me know!
> 
> p.s. some friends and i need NICKY, DAN, and ALLISON for an aftg rp chat! comment if you’re interested!!
> 
> okay BYE I love you all  
> \- autumn <3


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